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€l)c  illiUcr^itic  CliisisficjS 


THE  CLOCKMAKER 


SAYINGS   AND   DOINGS   OF 


15 


SAMUEL   SLICK   OF  SLICKVILLE 


BY 


THOMAS   CHANDLER   HALIBURTON 


ILLUSTRA  TED  BY  F.O.  C.  DA  RLE  V 


ROSTON   AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTOxN,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


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/?  7/ 


163873 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congresp,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

"URD  AND  HocGnroN, 
lu  the  Office  of  the  Libi.irian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 

All  rights  reserved. 


H 


The  tiiversiffe  Press,  Cnmbrirts^e  i 
Stereotvped  and  Printed  by  II,  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


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ADVERTISEMENT. 


t 
I 


The  name  "  Sam  Slick  "  has  passed  into  popular 
use  as  standing  for  a  somewhat  conventional  Yankee, 
in  whom  sharpness  and  verdancy  are  combined  in 
curious  proportions;  but  the  book  which  ga^^e  rise 
to  the  name  has  long  been  out  of  print.  It  is  now 
revived,  under  the  impression  that  the  reading  public 
will  have  an  interest  in  seeinsf  a  work  which,  more 
probably  than  any  other  one  book,  served  to  fix  the 
prevailing  idea  of  the  Yankee  character.  However 
true  or  false  the  impression  it  created,  the  qualities 
which  rendered  it  popular  a  generation  ago  remain, 
in  a  shrewdness  of  observation,  a  fund  of  anecdote 
•and  racy  adventure,  a  quaintness  of  expression,  and 
fkeen  mother  wit.  In  no  other  work  of  literature  is 
"there  preserved  so  lirge  a  collection  of  idiomatic 
phrases,  words,  and  similes,  —  whole  stories  in  them- 
selves and  pictures  of  society  at  the  time,  which  grow 
more  interesting,  the  more  historic  they  become 


V 
n 


IV 


AD  VKRTliSKMEIST. 


i 


The  keen  peddler  comos  sluirply  forward  from  a 
background  of  Provincial  shifilessness  and  dullness, 
and  it  is  a  mark  of  the  geniality  of  the  book  that, 
although  it  seems  to  have  had  its  origin  in  a  desire 
on  the  part  of  its  ailthor  to  goad  the  Provinces  into 
energy  and  alertness,  the  local  questions  and  politics 
discussed  jjive  a  flavor  to  the  narrative  without  lini- 
itinsf  the  reader's  interest.  One  does  not  need  to  be  » 
deeply  concerned  in  Nova  Scotia  prosperity,  nor 
versed  in  the  turnings  of  petty  politics,  to  take  a 
lively  pleasure  in  the  sharp  thrusts  which  the  author, 
under  shield  of  the  Clockniaker's  wit,  gives  at  stu- 
pidity and  narrowness.  The  two  sides  of  the  ques- 
tion involved  are  as  little  a  matter  of  concern  to  the 
general  reader  as  the  opposing  factions  of  York 
and  Lancaster. 

No  doubt  the  marked  contrast  bet»veen  the  nei<jh- 
boring  people  of  Nova  Scotia  and  New  England  was 
quickly  discerned  by  so  good  an  observer  as  the 
author  proved  himself  to  be,  while  his  national  and 
partisan  judgments  made  his  characterization  of  tl^p 
Yankee  to  be  a  double-edged  sword,  that  cut  wit|i  ^' 
equal  keenness  the  Colonist  and  the  Democrat.  . 
While  he  has  no  liking  for  the  United  States  polit- 
ically, he  is  very  glad  to  make  their  enterprise  and 
induotry  put  to  shame  the  slow  wits  of  his  country- 


rd  fiom  a 

l1   (lullllL'SS, 

book  that, 
[1  11  desire 
iiices  into 
nd  politics 
itliout  lini- 
iieed  to  be  V 
polity,  nor 
to  tal\e  a 
he  anthor, 
es  at  stu- 
the  ques- 
ern  to  tlie 
of  York 

le  nei<j[h- 
hind  was 
r  as  the 
iunal  and     i, 
n  of  t\\fi     '* 
cnt  wit^l 
)einocrat. 
tes  polit-    * 
rise  and 
country- 


A  D  VER  TJ  "EMENT.  t 

men ;  ^nd  the  qniet  satire  of  United  States  institu 
tions  and  ciiaracter  wliich  he  dispUiys  by  letting 
Slick  run  to  the  end  of  his  rope  is  curiou«'y  mingled 
with  the  contempt  which  he  lets  the  same  charactei 
express  for  Nova  Scotians,  and  in  which  it  is  plain 
he  himself  joins. 

Thonias  Chandler  Haliburton  was  born  at  Wind- 
sor, Nova  Scotia,  in  1700,  was  educated  at  King's 
College,  and  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1820.  He  en- 
tered political  life  shortly  after,  and  was  elected 
member  of  the  House  of  Assembly.  In  1829  he 
was  appointed  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  Com- 
mon Pleas,  and  in  1840  was  made  Judge  of  the 
Supreme  Court.  Ha  resigned  in  1842,  and  went  to 
England  to  reside,  where,  i  ;  1859,  he  was  elected 
member  of  Parliament  for  the  Borouijh  jf  Launces- 
ton,  and  at  the  dissolution  of  Parliament  in  1805  he 
declined  reelection  on  the  score  of  infirm  health. 
He  died  at  Islevvorth  in  July  of  the  same  year.  His 
party  politics  were  of  the  old  Tory  school,  and  he 
held  rigidly  by  them,  sharing  the  common  experi- 
ence of  colonial  partisans,  who,  on  returning  to  the 
mother  country,  are  very  apt  to  set  a  higher  value 
on  their  party  principles  than  those  who  have  always 
remained  at  home. 

The  first  appearance  of  his  "  Clockmaker  "  was  in 


n 


AOVFAiTISKMENT. 


the  form  of  a  series  of  letters  to  tUe  **  Nova  Scotinn  ** 
newspaper,  in  183/).  The  contributions  vv(Me  col- 
lected into  the  present  volume  in  1837,  and  were 
eagerly  read,  both  in  America  and  in  England,  the 
wit  of  the  book  making  it  equally  enjoyable  on  both 
sides  of  the  water,  while  its  pointed  reflections  raised 
a  good  deal  of  angry  discussion  also.  Perhaps  the 
most  vehement  attack  which  his  writings  received 
from  the  side  of  purely  literary  criticism  was  a  re- 
view by  C.  C.  Felton  in  the  "  North  Americat^  Re- 
view,'* in  which  the  critic  spoke  in  tones  of  great 
disgust  at  the  entire  conception  and  execution  of 
the  character  of  Sam  Slick.  Quite  possibly  some  of 
Professor  Felton's  severity  drew  its  strength  from 
a  personal  regard  for  Mr.  Everett,  who  figures  rather 
poorly  in  Judge  Haliburton's  pages.  There  was  so 
little,  however,  of  discriminating  criticism  at  that 
time  by  American  writers,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  deter- 
mine just  how  the  book  was  measured  by  our  coun- 
trymen. Probably  it  was  hardly  looked  upon  as 
literature  by  the  scholar,  and  the  ordinary  reader  did 
not  mar  his  pleasure  in  the  fun  by  looking  at  it  too 
critically. 

The  vein  was  worked  by  the  author  with  less  suc- 
cess in  "  The  Attache,  or  Sam  Slick  in  England," 
iirhere  the  violent  improbability  of  the  plan,  involv- 


1 
-« 


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m 


AUVKHTlSKMKSr. 


vil 


Scotinn  ** 
w(;io  col- 
juicl  wero 
land,  the 

2  on  botli 
ms  raised 
'haps  the 

receivcfl 
•'as  a  re- 
ican  Re- 
of  great 
ution  of 

some  of 
Jth  from 
J8  rather 

3  was  so 
at  that 

to  deter- 
ir  coun- 
ipon  as 
ider  did 
t  it  too 


I 


in^  an  ofFensive  contrast  between  the  Enj^lish  and 
American  characters,  leaves  the  really  clever  parti 
of  the  book  less  attractive.  In  addition  to  tiiese 
Judge  Ilaliburton  published  several  vohmies  bearinj* 
upon  colonial  manners  and  history :  "  IJubblcs  of 
Canada  ; "  "  The  Old  Judge,  or  Life  in  a  Colony  ;  " 
"  Historical  and  Statistical  account  of  Nova  Scotia;" 
"  Rule  ai^d  Misrule  of  the  English  in  America  ; " 
"  Letters  to  Lord  Durham."  His  more  strictly 
humorous  writings  include  '*  Nature  and  Human 
Nature  ; "  "  Wise  Saws ;  "  "  The  Letter  Bag  of  the 
Great  Western." 


ess  sue- 

igland," 

in  vol  v- 


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4 

I 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  L 

rA«i 
Thjb  TsoTTtNa  Horse 1 

CHAPTER  IL 
Thx  Clockmakbb .       8 

CHAPTER  HI. 
The  Silent  Girls •       •     14 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Conversations  at  the  River  Philip       ....     19 

CHAPTER  V. 
Justice  Pettifog 24 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Anecdotes 29 

CHAPTER  Vn. 
Go  Ahead 84 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
rnE  Pi^acher  that  wandered  from  his  Text  .       .     41 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Yankee  Eating  and  Horse  Feeding       ....      49 


^' 


% 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X.  PAOi 

Thk  Road  to  a  Woman's  Heart.  —  The  Broken  Heart      57 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Cumberland  Oysters  produce  Melancholy  Forebod- 
ings   65 

CHAPTER  XH. 
Thk  American  Eagle .74 

CHAPTER  XHI. 
The  Clockmaker's  Opinion  ov  Halifax        •       •       •      84 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Sayings  and  Doings  in  Cumbf:rland      .       .       •       •      94 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Dancing  Master  Abroad 101 

CHAPTER  XVI 
Mr.  Slick's  Opinion  of  the  British       ....    110 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  Yankee  Handle  for  a  Halifax  Blade     .       •       .    119 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Grahamite  and  the  Irish  Pilot     ....    128 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Clockmaker  Quilts  a  Bluenosb     ....    138 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Sister  S all's  Courtship .    147 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Setting  up  for  Governor 156 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  CuRK  FOR  Conceit 167 


I 


I 


fv 


PAOI 

BAKT 

67 

JOD- 

• 

65 

.     74 
.     84 
.      94 
.    101 
.    110 
.    119 
.    128 

.    138 

.    147 
.    155 


I 


CONTENTS  XI 

CHAPTER  XXIIl.  PAO» 

The  Blowtn'  Timb 176 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Father  John  O'Shaughnessy 186 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Taming  a  Shrew •       .    195 

CHAPTER  XXVL 
The  Minister's  Horn  Mug 203 

CHAPTER  XXVI[. 
The  White  Nigger 213 

CHAPTER  XXVni. 
Fire  in  the  Dairy 221 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
A  Body  without  a  Head 230 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
A  Tale  of  Bunker's  Hill 238 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
Gulling  a  Bluenose 246 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
Too  many  Irons  in  the  Fire 255 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Windsor  and  the  Far  West 266 


167 


i 


Hi 


THE   CLOOKMAKEE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE    TROTTING    HORSE. 


1  WAS  always  well  mounted :  I  am  fond  of  a 
horse,  and  always  piqued  myself  on  having  the 
fastest  trotter  in  the  Province.  I  have  made  no 
great  progress  in  the  world  ;  I  feel  doubly,  there- 
fore, the  pleasure  of  not  being  surpassed  on  the  road. 
I  never  feel  so  well  or  so  cheerful  as  on  horseback, 
for  there  is  something  exhilarating  in  quick  motion  ; 
and,  old  as  I  am,  I  feel  a  pleasure  in  making  any 
person  whom  I  meet  on  the  way  put  his  horse  to 
the  full  gallop,  to  keep  pace  with  my  trotter.  Poor 
Ethiop !  you  recollect  him,  how  he  was  wont  to  lay 
back  his  ears  on  his  arched  neck,  and  push  away 
from  all  competition  ?  He  is  done,  poor  fellow  !  the 
spavin  spoiled  his  speed,  and  he  now  roams  at  large 
upon  "  my  farm  at  Truro."  Mohawk  never  failed 
me  till  this  summer. 

I  pride  myself  —  you  may  laugh  at  such  childish 
weakness  in  a  man  of  my  age  —  but  still,  I  pride 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


\ 


myself  in  taking  the  conceit  out  of  coxcombs  I  meet 
on  the  road,  and  on  the  ease  with  whicii  I  can  leave 
a  fool  behind,  whose  nonsense  disturbs  my  solitary 


musniiis. 


On  mv  last  iournev  to  Fort  Lawrence,  as  the 
beautiful  view  of  Colchester  had  just  opened  upon 
me,  and  as  I  was  contemnlatinix  its  richness  and 
exquisite  scenery,  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  hollow 
cheeks  and  bright,  twinkling  black  eyes,  on  a  good 
bay  horse,  somewhat  out  of  condition,  overtook  me ; 
and  drawing  up,  said,  '•  I  guess  you  started  early 
this  morning,  sir  ?  " 

"I  did,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"  You  did  not  c(mie  from  Halifax,  I  presume,  sir, 
did  you  ? "  in  a  dialect  too  rich  to  be  mistaken  as 
genuine  Yankee.  "  And  which  way  may  you  be 
travelling?"  asked  my  inquisitive  companion. 

"  To  Fort  Lawrence." 

"  Ah  I  "  said  he,  "  so  am  I ;  it  is  in  my  circuit." 

The  ,vord  circuit  sounded  so  professional,  I  looked 
again  at  him,  to  ascertain  whether  I  had  ever  seen 
him  before,  or  whether  I  had  met  with  one  of  those 
nameless,  but  innumerable  limbs  of  the  law,  who 
now  flourish  in  every  district  of  the  Province. 
There  was  a  keenness  about  his  eye,  and  an  acute- 
ness  of  expression,  much  in  favor  of  the  law  ;  but 
the  dress,  and  general  bearing  of  the  man,  made 
against  the  supposition.  His  was  not  the  coat  of  a 
man  who  can  afford  to  wear  an  old  coat,  nor  was  it 
one    of  "  Tempest   and    More's,"    that    distinguish 


THE  TROTTING  HORSE. 


8 


a 

it 


^i 


country  lawyers  from  country  boobies.  His  clothes 
were  well  made,  and  of  good  materials,  but  looked 
as  if  their  owner  had  shnmk  a  little  since  they  were 
made  for  him ;  they  hung  somewhat  loose  on  him. 
A  large  brooch,  and  some  superfluous  seals  and 
gold  keys,  which  ornamented  his  outward  man, 
looked  '*  New  England  "  like.  A  visit  to  the  States, 
had  perhaps,  I  thought,  turned  this  Colchester  beau 
into  a  Yankee  fop.  Of  whpt  consequence  was  it  to 
me  who  he  was?  In  either  case  I  had  nothing  to 
do  with  him,  and  I  desired  neither  his  acquaintance 
nor  his  company.  Still  I  could  not  but  ask  myself, 
Who  can  this  man  be  ? 

"  I  am  not  aware,"  said  I,  "  that  there  is  a  court 
sitting  at  this  time  at  Cumberland." 

"  Nor  am  I,"  said  my  friend.  What,  then,  could 
he  have  to  do  with  the  circuit  ?  It  occurred  to  me 
he  must  be  a  Methodist  preacher.  I  looked  again, 
but  his  appearance  again  puzzled  me.  His  attire 
might  do,  the  color  might  be  suitable,  the  broad 
brim  not  out  of  place  ;  but  there  was  a  want  of  that 
staidness  of  look,  that  seriousness  of  countenance, 
that  expression,  in  short,  so  characteristic  of  the 
clergy. 

I  could  not  account  for  my  idle  curiosity,  —  a 
curiosity  which,  in  him,  I  had  the  moment  before 
viewed  both  with  suspicion  and  disgust ;  but  so  it 
was,  I  felt  a  desire  to  know  who  he  could  be  who 
was  neither  lawyer  nor  preacher,  and  yet  talked  of 
his  circuit  with  the  gravity  of  both.     How  ridiculous, 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


I  thought  to  myself,  is  /nis ;  I  will  leave  him. 
Turnin<r  towards  him,  I  said  !  feared  I  should  be 
late  for  breakfast,  and  must  therefore  bid  him  trood 
morning.  Mohawk  felt  the  pressure  of  my  knees, 
and  away  we  went  at  a  slapping  pace.  I  coni]jratu- 
ated  myself  on  conquering  my  own  curiosity,  and 
on  avoiding  that  of  my  travelling  companion.  This, 
I  said  to  myself,  this  is  the  value  of  a  good  horse  ; 
I  patted  his  neck  ;  I  felt  proud  of  him.  Presently 
I  heard  the  steps  of  the  unknown's  horse  —  the 
clatter  increased.  Ah,  my  friend,  thought  I,  it 
won't  do  ;  you  should  be  well  mounted  if  you  desire 
my  company.  I  pushed  Mohawk  faster,  faster, 
faster — to  liis  best,  lie  outdid  himself;  he  had 
never  trotted  so  handsonely,  so  easily,  so  well. 

"  I  guess  that  is  a  pretty  considerable  smart 
horse,"  said  the  stranger,  as  he  came  beside  me,  and 
apparently  reined  in  to  prevent  his  horse  passing 
me  ;  "  there  is  not,  I  reckon,  so  spry  a  one  on  my 
circuit." 

Circuit  or  no  circuit,  one  thing  was  settled  in  my 
mind.  —  he  was  a  Yankee,  and  a  very  impertinent 
Yankee  too.  I  felt  humbled,  my  pride  was  hurt, 
and  Mohawk  was  beaten.  To  continue  this  trotting 
contest  was  humiliating  ;  I  yielded,  therefore,  before 
the  victory  was  palpable,  and  pulled  up. 

"Yes,"  continued  he,  "a  horse  of  pretty  consider- 
able good  action,  and  a  pretty  fair  trotter  too,  I 
guess."  Pride  must  have  a  fall .  I  confess  mine 
was  prostrate  in  the  dust.     These  words  cut  me  to 


ill    leave    him. 

d  I  should  be 

bid  hiiM  <j()()d 

of  my  knees, 

.     I  conu;ratii- 

curiosity,  and 

janion.     This, 

I  good  horse  ; 

in.     Presently 

r>    horse  —  the 

thought    I,    it 

1  if  you  desire 

faster,   faster, 

iself;    he    had 

so  well. 

lerable    smart 

?side  me,  and 

lorse  passing 

a  one  on  ray 

settled  in  mv 
'  impertinent 
ide  was  hurt, 
}  this  trottingf 
refore,  before 

.'tty  consider- 
rotter  too,  I 
confess  mine 
Is  cut  me  to 


y  iTo-/- 


^^.->!^ 


1 


^1 


THE   TRorriNG   HOUSE. 


4 


the  heart.  Wliat!  is  it  coiuo  to  tliis.  poor  ^loh.iwk, 
that  yon,  the  admiration  of  :iit  Ijiit  tliu  t'livioiis,  the 
great  Moliawiv,  tlu;  staiulanl  by  wiiii-ii  all  otiitT 
horses  arc  fiieasured  —  trots  next  to  ]Molia\vk,  or.iy 
yields  to  Moliawk,  l()o]<s  lii<e  Moiiawk  —  tiiat  yoil 
are,  after  all,  only  a  counterfeit,  and  prononn'-ed  i)y 
a  stragglins^  Yanixee  to  be  merely  '•  a  pretty  fair 
trotter  ! " 

"  If  he  w:is  trained,  I  guess  that  he  niijjjlit  be 
made  to  do  a  little  more.  Excuse  me,  but  if  you 
divide  your  weiglit  between  the  knee  and  the 
stiri'up,  rather  most  on  tiie  knee,  and  rise  forward 
on  the  saddle,  so  as  to  leave  a  little  davlii-ht  be- 
tween  you  and  it,  I  hope  I  may  never  ride  this 
circuit  again,  if  you  don't  get  a  mile  more  an  hour 
out  of  him." 

What!  not  enough,  I  mentally  jiroaned,  to  have 
my  horse  beaten,  but  I  must  he  told  that  I  don't 
know  how  to  ride  him  ;  and  that,  too,  by  a  Yankee! 
Aye,  there's  the  rub — a  Yankee  what?  Perhaps 
a  half-bred  puppy,  hall  Yankee,  half  Bhienose. 
As  there  is  no  escape,  I'll  try  to  make  out  my  riding 
niast(^r.  "  Your  circuit?"  said  I,  my  looks  express- 
ing all  the  surjjrise  they  were  capable  of,  "  your 
circuit,  pray  what  may  th:it  be  ?  " 

"  0,"  said  he,  "  the  eastern  circuit ;  I  am  on  the 
eastern  circuit,  sir." 

''  1  have  heard,"  said  T,  feeling  that  T  now  had  a 
lawyer  to  deal  with,  "  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
ousiness  on  this  circuit.  Pray,  are  t'.iere  many 
^ases  of  importance  ?  " 


8 


THE   CrnCK.UAKFfl 


"  There  is  a  pretty  fair  biisinoss  to  l)e  done,  at 
least  there  h;is  been,  but  the  cases  are  of  no  creat 
value ;  we  (io  not  inal\(»  minli  of  thciin,  we  jjjet 
them  up  v(My  easy,  but  they  (hm't  l)riniL;  much 
profit."  Wh.it  a  beast,  tlioui^lit  I,  is  tiiis  !  and  wliat 
a  curse  to  a  country,  to  iiave  sucii  an  uiif(;elin<:, 
pettifogging  rascal  practicin<^  in  it!  a  horse  jocUey, 
too  —  whiit  a  finished  character!  I'll  try  him  on 
that  branch  of  his  business. 

"That  is  a  superior  animal  you  are  mounted  on," 
said    T  ;    ''I  seldom  meet  one  that  can  travel  with 


it 


mine. 

"  Yes,"  siiid  he  coolly,  "a  considerable  fair  travel- 
ler, and  most  purticular  ujood  bottom."  I  hesitated  ; 
this  man,  who  talks  with  such  unblushin*^  effront- 
ery of  <;ettin«^  up  cases,  and  midvin^-  profit  out  of 
them,  cannot  be  offended  at  the  question  —  yes,  I 
will  put  it  to  him. 

"  Do  you  feel  an  inclination  to  part  with  him  ?" 

"  T  never  part  with  a  horse,  sir,  that  suits  me," 
said  he.  "  I  am  fond  of  a  horse  :  I  don't  like  to 
ride  in  the  dust  after  every  one  I  meet,  and  I  allow 
no  man  to  pass  me  but  when  I  choose."  Is  it  possi- 
ble, I  thought,  that  he  can  know  me,  —  that  he  has 
heard  of  my  foible,  and  is  quizzing  me  ?  or  have  I 
this  feelinix  in  common  with  him  ? 

"  But,"  continued  I,  ''you  might  supply  yourself 
ngain." 

"  Not  on  this  circuit,  I  guess,"  said  he,  "  nor  yet  in 
Campbell's  circuit." 


'■■m 


.■ill} 

-  x^ 


w 


net 


» 


me, 
ke  to 
allow 

)ossi- 
has 

ve  1 


'■fl 


let  in 


TfTE   TROTTING  IIOHSR.  7 

"  Campbpir.s  circuit  —  pray,  sir,  what  is  that?  " 

"  Tiiat,"  said  he,  "is  the  western;  and  r^ainpton 
rides  the  shore  circuit;  and  as  for  the  |)e()ple  on  tlie 
shore,  tliey  know  so  little  of  horses  that,  Lainpton 
tells  nie,  a  tnan  from  Aviesford  once  sold  a  horidess 
ox  then',  whose  tail  he  had  cut  and  nicked,  for  a 
horse  of  tlie  Goliath  hrcMnl." 

"  I  should  thiid<,"  said  I,  *'  that  Mr.  Lampton 
nuist  have  no  lack  of  cases  amouii  such  cnlijihtened 
clients." 

"  Clients,  sir  !  "  said  my  friend,  "  Mr.  Lampton  is 
not  a  lawyer." 

"  I  bog  pardon,  I  thought  you  said  he  rode  the 
circuit." 

''  We  call  it  a  circuit,"  said  the  stranger,  who 
seemed  by  no  means  flattered  by  the  mistake  ;  "  we 
dividi-  the  Province,  as  in  the  Abnanac,  into  cir- 
cuits, in  each  of  which  we  separately  carry  on  our 
business  of  manufacturing  and  selling  clocks.  There 
are  f(  \v,  I  guess,"  said  the  Clockuiaker,  "  who  go 
upon  tick  as  nnich  as  we  do,  who  have  so  little  use 
for  lawyers  ;  if  attorneys  could  wind  a  man  up  again, 
after  he  has  been  fairly  run  down,  I  guess  they'd  be 
a  pretty  harndess  sort  of  folks." 

This  exj^lanation  restored  my  good  humor,  and 
as  I  could  not  quit  my  companion,  and  he  did  not 
feel  disposed  to  leave  me,  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
>avel  with  him  to  Fort  Lawrence,  the  limit  of  his 
circuit. 


CriAPTER    II. 


THE     CI.OCKMAKER. 


I  HAD  heard  of  Yankee  clock  peddlers,  tin  ped- 
dlers, and  Bible  peddlers,  especially  of  him  who 
sold  Polyglot  Bibles  {all  in  English)  to  the  amount 
of  sixteen  thousand  pounds.  Tlie  house  of  every 
substantial  farmer  had  three  substantial  ornaments  : 
a  wooden  clock,  a  tin  rcilector,  and  a  Polyglot 
Bible.  How  is  it  that  an  Americin  can  sell  his 
wares,  at  whatever  price  he  pleases,  wliere  a  Blue- 
nose  would  fail  to  make  a  sale  at  all  ?  I  will  in- 
quire of  the  Clockmaker  the  secret  of  his  success. 

"What  a  pity  it  is,  IMr.  Slick,"  —  for  such  was 
his  name,  —  "  what  a  pity  it  is,"  said  I,  "  that  you, 
who  are  so  successful  in  teaching  these  people  the 
value  of  clocks,  could  not  also  teach  them  the 
value  of  time." 

"  I  guess,"  said  he,  "  they  have  got  that  ring  to 
grow  on  their  horns  yet,  which  every  four-year-old 
has  in  our  country.  We  reckon  hours  and  minutes 
to  be  dollars  and  cents.  Thev  do  nothinij  in  these 
parts  but  eat,  drink,  smoke,  sleep,  ride  about,  lounge 
at  taverns,  make  speeches  at  temperance  meetings, 


:3l 


w 


tin  ped- 
um who 
amount 
of  every 
laments : 
Polyglot 
sell  his 
a  Blue- 
will  in- 
ccess. 
uch  was 
lat   you, 
ople  the 
lem   the 

ring  to 
year-old 
minutes 
in  these 
,  lounge 
leetings, 


THE   CLOCKMAKER.  9 

and  talk  about  *  House  of  Assembly.'  If  a  man 
don't  hoe  his  corn,  and  he  don't  get  a  crop,  he  says 
it  is  owing  to  the  bank  ;  and  if  he  runs  into  debt 
and  is  sued,  why,  he  says  the  lawyers  are  a  curse  to 
the  country.  Tliey  are  a  most  idle  set  of  folks,  I 
tell  you." 

"  But  how  is  it,"  said  I,  *'  that  you  manage  to  sell 
such  an  immense  number  of  clocks,  which  cer^^ainly 
cannot  be  called  necessary  articles,  among  a  people 
with  whom  there  seems  to  be  so  great  a  scarcity  of 
money?"  Mr.  Slick  paused,  as  if  considering  the 
propriety  of  answering  the  question,  and  looking  me 
in  the  face,  said  in  a  confidential  tone, — 

"  Whv,  I  don't  care  if  1  do  tell  vou,  for  the  mar- 
ket  is  glutted,  and  I  shall  quit  this  circuit.  It  is 
done  by  a  knowledge  of  soft  sawder  and  human  na- 
tur\  But  here  is  Deacon  Flint's,"  said  he  ;  ''  I  have 
but  one  clock  left,  and  I  (^uess  I  will  sell  it  to  him." 

At  the  gate  of  a  uiost  comfortable  looking  farm- 
house stood  Deacon  Flint,  a  respectable  old  man, 
who  had  understood  the  value  of  tin  \  better  than 
most  of  his  neighbors,  if  one  might  judge  from  the 
appearance  of  everything  about  him.  After  the 
usiial  salutation,  an  invitation  to  "alight"  was  ac- 
cepted by  Mr.  Slick,  who  said  he  wished  to  take 
leave  of  Mrs.  Flint  before  he  left  Colchester. 

We  had  hardly  entered  the  house,  before  the 
Clockmaker  pointed  to  the  view  from  the  window, 
and,  addressing  himself  to  me,  said,  "  If  I  was  to  tell 
them  in  Connecticut  there  was  such  a  farm  as  this 


10 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


away  down  East  here  in  Nova  Scotia,  they  wouldn't 
believe  me.  Wliy,  there  ain't  such  a  location  in  all 
New  England.  The  Deacon  has  a  hundred  acres  of 
dyke  "  — 

"  Seventy,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  only  seventy." 

"  Well,  seventy ;  but  then  there  is  your  fine  deep 
bottom,  why  I  could  run  a  ramrod  into  it "  — 

"  Interval,  we  call  it,"  said  the  Deacon,  who  though 
evidently  pleased  at  this  eulogiuui,  seemed  to  wish 
the  experiment  of  the  raun*od  to  be  tried  in  the 
right  place. 

"  Well,  interval,  if  you  please  —  though  Professoi 
Eleazer  Cumstick,  in  his  work  on  Ohio,  calls  theui 
bottoms  —  is  just  as  good  as  dyke.  Then  there  is 
that  water  privilege,  worth  three  or  four  thousand 
dollars,  twice  as  good  as  what  Governor  Cass  paid 
fifteen  thousand  dollars  for.  I  wonder,  Deacon,  you 
don't  put  up  a  carding  mill  on  it ;  the  same  works 
would  carry  a  turning  lathe,  a  shingle  machine,  a 
circular  saw,  grind  bark,  and  "  — 

"  Too  old,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  too  old  for  all  those 
speculations  "  — 

"  Old !  "  repeated  the  Clockmaker,  "  not  you  ;  why 
you  are  worth  half  a  dozen  of  the  young  men  we  see, 
nowadays ;  you  are  young  enough  to  have  "  —  here 
he  said  something  in  a  lower  tone  of  voice,  which  I 
did  not  distinctly  hear ;  but  whatever  it  was,  the 
Deacon  was  pleased  ;  he  smiled,  and  said  he  did  not 
*"hink  of  such  things  now. 

"  But  your  beasts,  dear  me,  your  beasts  must  be 


5 
*> 


1 

'4j 


.  MS. 


4 


% 


:? 


t 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


11 


wouldn't 
II  in  all 
cres  of 


le  deep 

though 

to  wish 

in   the 

^ofessoi 
s  theui 
tliere  is 
lOiis:  nd 
ss  paid 
;on,  you 
3  works 
:hine,  a 

11  those 

II ;  why 
we  see, 
—  here 
I'hich  I 
as,  the 
did  not 

lust  be 


4 


% 


i 


i 


put  in  and  have  a  feed ;  '*  saying  which,  he  went  out 
to  order  them  to  be  taken  to  the  stable. 

As  the  old  gentleman  closed  the  door  after  him, 
Mr.  Slick  drew  near  to  me,  and  said  in  an  under- 
tone, "  That  is  what  1  call '  soft  saivder.^  An  English- 
man would  pass  that  man  as  a  sheep  passes  a  hog 
in  a  pasture,  without  looking  at  him  ;  or,"  said  he, 
looking"  ratlier  archlv,  "if  he  was  mounted  on  a 
pretty  smart  horse,  1  guess  he'd  trot  away,  if  he 
could.  Now  I  find  "  —  Here  his  lecture  on  "  soft 
sawder"  was  cut  shoit  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs 
Flint 

*"  Jist  come  to  say  good-by,  Mrs.  Flint." 
*' What,  have  you  sold  all  your  clocks?" 
"  Yes,  and  very  low  too,  for  money  is  scarce,  and  I 
wish  to  close  the  consarn  ;  no,  I  am  wronj;  in  savingf 
all.  for  I  have  just  one  left.  Neighbor  Steel's  wife 
asked  to  have  the  refusal  of  it,  but  I  guess  I  won't 
sell  it ;  1  had  but  two  of  them,  this  one  and  the  feller 
of  it,  that  I  sold  Governor  Lincoln.  General  Green, 
the  Secretary  of  State  for  Maine,  said  he'd  give  me 
fifty  dollars  for  this  here  one — it  has  composition 
wheels  and  patent  axles,  is  a  beautiful  article,  a 
real  first  chop,  no  mistake,  genuine  superfine  —  but 
1  guess  I'll  take  it  back ;  and  besides,  Squire  Hawk 
might  think  kinder  hard,  that  I  did  not  give  him 
the  offer." 

*•  Dear  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Flint,  "  I  should  like  to  see 
i ;  where  is  it  ?  " 
*'  It  is  in  a  chest  of  mine  over  the  way,  at  Tom 


12 


THE  CLOCKMARER. 


Tape's  store.     I  guess  he  can  ship  it  on  to  East* 

port." 
"  That's  a  good  man,"  said  Mrs.  Flint,  "jist  let's 

ook  at  it." 

.]\Ir.  Slick,  willinfT  to  oblige,  yielded  to  these  en- 
ireaties,  and  soon  produced  the  clock, — a  gaudy, 
nighly  varnish.ed,  trumpery  looking  affair.  He 
placed  it  on  the  chimney-piece,  where  its  beauties 
were  pointed  out  and  duly  aj^preciated  by  Mrs.  Flint, 
whose  admiration  was  about  ending  in  a  proposal, 
when  Mr.  Flint  returned  from  giving  his  directions 
about  the  care  of  the  horses.  The  Deacon  praised 
the  clock  ;  he  too  thought  it  a  handsome  one  ;  but  the 
Deacon  was  a  prudent  man  ;  he  had  a  watch  ;  he 
was  sorrv,  but  he  had  no  occasion  for  a  clock. 

"I  (juess  you're  in  the  wronu  furrow  this  time, 
Deacon,  it  ain't  for  sale,"  said  Mr.  Slick  :  *'  and  if  it 
was,  I  reckon  neighbor  Steel's  wife  would  have  it, 
for  she  gave  me  no  peace  ai)out  it."  Mrs.  Flint 
said  that  Mr.  Steel  had  enough  to  do,  poor  man, 
to  pay  his  interest,  without  buying  clocks  for  his 
wife. 

"  It  is  no  consarn  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  as 
kng  as  he  pays  me,  what  he  has  to  do  ;  but  I  guess  I 
don't  want  to  sell  it,  and  besides,  it  comes  too  high ; 
that  clock  can't  be  make  at  Rhode  Tshmd  under  forty 
dollars.  Why,  it  ain't  possible,"  said  the  Clockmake?, 
11  appanmt  surprise,  lo(,»king  at  his  watch,  "why  as 
I'm  alive  it  is  four  o'clock,  and  if  I  haven't  been  two 
'Kours  here.     How  on  airth  shall  \  reach  River  Philip 


I 

I 


i 


:»: 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


18 


'■k 


■f 


to-niglit?  I'll  tell  you  what,  Mrs.  Flint,  I'll  leave 
the  clock  in  your  cure  till  I  return,  on  my  way  to 
the  States.  I'll  set  it  a  going,  and  put  it  to  the 
ri<jtht  tiiue." 

As  soon  as  this  operation  was  performed,  he  de- 
livered the  key  to  the  Deacon  with  a  sort  of  serio- 
comic injunction  to  wind  up  the  clock  every  Satur- 
day night,  which  IMrs.  Flint  said  she  would  take  care 
should  be  done,  and  promised  to  remind  her  husband 
of  it,  in  case  he  should  chance  to  forget  it. 

"  That,"  said  the  Clockmaker,  as  soon  as  we  were 
mounted,  "'that  I  call  'human  natur'!'  Now  that 
clock  is  sold  for  forty  dollars;  it  cost  me  just  six 
dollars  and  fifty  cents.  Mrs.  Flint  will  never  let 
Mrs.  Steel  have  the  refusal,  nor  will  the  Deacon 
learn  until  I  call  for  the  cli)ck,  that  having  once  in- 
dulged in  the  use  of  a  superfluity,  how  difficult  it  is 
to  give  it  up.  We  can  do  without  any  article  of  ^ 
luxury  we  have  never  had,  but  when  once  obtained, 
it  is  not  in  '  human  natur"  to  surrender  it  volunta- 
rily. Of  fifteen  thousand  sold  by  myself  and  partners 
in  this  Province,  twelve  thousand  were  left  in  this 
manner,  and  only  ten  clocks  were  ever  returned ; 
when  we  called  for  them  they  invariably  bought 
them.  We  trust  to  'soft  sawder'  to  get  them  into 
the  house,  and  to  'human  natur','  that  they  never 
lome  out  of  it." 


•■I 


m 


IM 


v. 


5^) 


^*y'Q<''i>i*|^ 


CHAPTER  111. 


THE    SILENT    GIULS. 


"  Do  you  see  them  'ere  swallows,"  said  the  Clock- 
maker,  "  how  low  thev  fly  ?  AVoll,  I  presume  we 
shall  have  rain  right  away  ;  and  thein  noisy  crit- 
ters, them  gulls,  how  close  they  keep  to  the  water, 
down  there  in  the  Shubenacadie ;  well  that's  a  sure 
si^^n.  If  we  study  natur',  we  don't  want  no  thermom- 
eter.  But  I  euess  we  shall  be  in  time  to  j^et  under 
cover  in  a  shingle-maker's  shed,  about  three  miles 
ah^ead  on  us." 

We  had  just  reached  the  deserted  hovel,  when  the 
rain  fell  in  torrents. 

"  I  reckon,"  said  the  Clockniaker,  as  he  sat  him- 
self down  on  a  bundle  of  shingles,  "I  reckon  they 
are  bad  olT  for  inns  in  this  country.  When  a  feller 
is  too  lazy  to  work  here,  he  paints  his  name  over  his 
door,  and  calls  it  a  tavern,  and  as  like  as  not  he 
makes  the  whole  neighborhood  as  lazy  as  himself 
It  is  about  as  easy  to  find  a  good  inn  in  Halifax,  as  it 
is  to  find  wool  on  a  goat's  back.  An  inn,  to  be  a  good 
consarn,  must  be  built  a  purpose ;  you  can  no  more 


I 


I 


I 


I 


THE  SILENT   GIRLS. 


15 


make  a  good  tavern  out  of  a  common  dwelling 
house,  I  expect,  than  a  good  coat  out  of  an  old  pair 
of  trousers.  Tliey  are  eternal  lazy,  you  may  depend. 
Now  there  inight  be  a  grand  spec  made  there,  in 
building  a  good  inn  and  a  good  church." 

"  What  a  sacrilegious  and  unnatural  union  !  "  said 
I,  with  most  unaffected  surprise. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Slick ;  '•  we  build  both  on  spec- 
ulation in  the  States,  and  make  a  good  deal  of  profit 
out  of  'em  too,  I  tell  you.  We  look  out  a  good  sightly 
place,  in  a  town  like  Halifax,  that  is  pretty  consider- 
ably well  peopled,  with  folics  that  are  good  marks  ; 
and  if  there  is  no  real  right  down  good  preacher 
among  them,  we  build  a  handsome  church,  touched 
off  like  a  New  York  liner,  a  real  takinsf  looking 
thing,  and  then  we  look  out  for  a  preacher,  a  crack 
man,  a  regular  ten  horse  power  chap ;  well,  we  hire 
him,  and  we  have  to  give  pretty  high  wages  too,  say 
twelve  hundred  or  sixteen  hundred  dollars  a  year. 
We  take  him  at  first  on  trial  for  a  Sabbath  or  two, 
to  try  his  paces,  and  if  he  takes  with  the  folks,  if  he 
goes  down  well,  we  clinch  the  bargain,  and  let  and 
sell  the  pews  ;  and  I  tell  you  it  pays  well,  and  makes 
a  real  good  investment.  There  were  few  better 
specs  among  us  than  inns  and  churches,  until  the 
railroads  came  on  the  carpet;  as  soon  as  the  nor- 
elty  of  the  new  preacher  wears  off  we  hire  another, 
a.id  that  keeps  up  the  steam." 

"  I  trust  it  will  be  long,  very  long,  my  friend,"  said 
I,  "  er*^  the  rage  for  speculation  introduces  *  the 
Mioney-changers  into  the  Temple,'  with  us." 


I 


16 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


INIr.  Slick  looked  at  me  with  a  most  ineffable  ex- 
pression of  pity  and  surprise.  "  Depend  on  it,  sir," 
said  he,  with  a  most  philosophical  air,  ''this  Prov- 
ince  is  much  behind  tiie  intelligence  of  the  age. 
But  if  it  is  behind  us  in  that  respect,  it  is  a  long 
chalk  ahead  on  us  in  others.  I  never  seed  or  heerd 
tell  of  a  country  that  had  so  many  natural  privileges 
as  this.  Why,  there  are  twice  as  many  harbors  and 
water  powers  hero,  as  we  have  all  the  way  from 
Eastport  to  New  Ovleens.  They  have  all  they  can 
ax,  and  more  than  they  desarve.  They  have  iron, 
coal,  s^ate,  grindstone,  lime,  fire-stone,  gypsum,  free- 
stone, and  a  list  as  lon^x  as  an  auctioneer's  catalojjue. 
But  they  are  either  asleep,  or  stone  blind  to  them. 
Their  shores  are  crowded  witli  fish,  and  their  lands 
covered  with  wood.  A  government  that  lays  as 
light  on  'em  as  a  down  counterpin,  and  no  taxes. 
Then  look  at  their  dykes.  The  Lord  seems  to  have 
made  'em  on  purpose  for  such  lazy  folks.  If  you 
were  ^,o  tell  the  citizens  of  our  country  that  these 
dykes  nad  been  cropped  for  a  hundred  years  without 
manure,  they'd  say,  they  guessed  you  had  seen  Col. 
Crockett,  the  greatest  hand  at  a  flam  in  our  nation. 
You  have  heerd  tell  of  a  man  who  couldn't  see  Lon- 
don for  the  houses  ?  I  tell  you,  if  we  had  this  country, 
you  couldn't  see  the  harbors  for  the  '  hipping.  There'd 
be  a  rush  of  folks  to  it,  as  there  is  in  one  of  our  inns, 
to  the  dinner  table,  when  they  sometimes  get  jammed 
together  in  the  door-way,  and  a  man  has  to  take  a 
running  leap  over  tbeir  heads,  afore  he  can  get  in 


I 


THE  SILENT  GIRLS. 


17 


A  little  nigger  boy  in  New  York  found  a  diamond 
worth  two  thousand  dollars;  well,  ue  sold  it  to  a 
watchmaker  for  filty  cents;  the  little  critter  didn't 
know  no  better.  Your  people  are  just  like  the  nigger 
boy,  —  they  don't  know  the  value  of  their  diamond. 

"  Do  you  know  the  reason  monkeys  are  no  good  ? 
because  they  chatter  all  day  long  ;  so  do  the  niggers, 
and  so  do  the  Bluenoses  of  Nova  Scotia;  it's  all 
talk  and  no  work.  Now  with  us  it's  all  work  and 
no  talk ;  in  our  ship-yards,  our  factories,  our  mills, 
and  even  in  our  vessels,  there's  no  talk ;  a  man 
can't  work  and  talk  too.  I  guess  if  you  were  at  the 
factories  at  Lowell  we'd  show  you  a  wonder  —  five 
hundred  oals  at  work  toofether  all  in  silence.  I 
don't  think  our  great  country  has  such  a  real  natural 
curiosity  as  that ;  I  expect  the  world  don't  contain 
the  beat  of  that ;  for  a  woman's  tongue  goes  so  slick 
of  itself,  without  water  power  or  steam,  and  moves 
BO  easy  on  its  hinges,  that  it's  no  easy  matter  to  put 
a  spring-stop  on  it,  I  tell  you ;  it  comes  as  natural 
as  drinkin'  mint  julip. 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  say  the  gals  don't  nullify  the 
rule,  sometimes,  at  intermission  and  arter  hours,  but 
when  they  do,  if  they  don't  let  go,  then  it's  a  pity. 
You  have  heerd  a  school  come  out,  of  little  boys  ? 
Ajord,  it's  no  touch  to  it;  or  a  flock  of  geese  at  it? 
they  are  no  more  a  match  for  'em  than  a  pony  is  for 
a  coach-horse.  But  when  they  are  at  work,  all's  as 
still  as  sleep  and  no  snoring.  I  guess  we  have  a 
^ght  to  brag  o'  that  invention  ;  we  trained  the  dear 


ii 


i  1:  f' 
/  I'  ■" 
i    i  '■ 


18 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


critters  so  they  don't  tliink  of  striking  the  niinutea 
ana  seconds  no  longer. 

*'  Now  the  folks  of  Halifax  take  it  all  out  in  talk- 
ing. They  talk  of  steanilioats,  whalers,  and  rail- 
roads; but  they  all  end  where  they  begin  —  in 
talk.  I  don't  think  I'd  be  out  in  inv  latitude  if  I 
was  to  say  they  beat  the  wonienkind  at  that.  One 
fellow  says,  '  I  talk  of  going  to  England ; '  another 
says,  '  I  talk  of  going  to  the  country; '  while  a  third 
says,  '  I  talk  of  going  to  sleep.'  If  we  happen  to 
speak  of  such  things,  we  say,  'Tin  right  off  down 
East,'  or  *  I'm  away  off  South,'  and  away  we  go  jist 
like  a  streak  of  liirlUninir. 

*'  When  we  want  folks  to  talk,  we  pay  'em  for  it, 
such  as  ministers,  lawyers,  and  members  of  Con- 
gress ;  but  then  we  expect  the  use  of  their  tojigues, 
and  not  their  hands ;  and  when  we  pay  folks  to 
work,  we  expect  the  use  of  their  hands,  and  not 
their  tongues.  I  guess  work  don't  come  kind  o' 
natural  to  the  people  of  this  Province,  no  more  than 
it  Joes  to  a  full  bred  horse.  I  expect  they  think 
they  have  a  little  too  much  blood  in  'em  for  work, 
for  they  are  near  about  as  proud  as  they  are  lazy. 

"  Now  the  bees  know  how  to  sarve  out  such  chaps, 
for  they  have  their  drones  too.  Well,  they  reckon 
it's  no  fun,  a  making  honey  all  summer,  for  these  idle 
critters  to  eat  all  winter,  so  they  give  'em  Lynch 
law.  They  have  a  regular  built  mob  of  citizens, 
and  string  up  the  drones  like  the  Vicksburg  gam- 
blers. Their  maxim  is.  and  not  a  bad  one  neither,  J 
^uess,  '  No  work,  no  honey.'  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 


CONVERSATIONS    AT    THE    UIVEIl    PHILIP. 


It  was  late  before  we  arrived  at  Puirnose's  inn  ; 
the  evening  was  cool,  and  a  fire  was  cheering  and 
comfortable.  Mr.  Slick  declined  any  share  in  the 
bottle  of  wine  ;  he  said  he  was  dyspeptic  ;  and  a 
glass  or  two  soon  convinced  me  that  it  was  likely 
to  produce  in  me  something  worse  than  dyspepsia. 
It  was  speedily  removed,  and  we  drew  up  to  the 
fire.  Taking  a  small  penknife  from  his  pocket,  he 
began  to  whittle  a  thin  piece  of  dry  wood,  which 
lay  on  the  hearth  ;  and,  after  musing  some  time, 
said,  — 

'*  I  guess  you've  never  been  in  the  States  ? "  1 
replied  that  I  had  not,  but  that  before  I  returned 
to  England  I  proposed  visiting  that  country. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  you'll  see  the  great  Daniel 
Webster ;  he's  a  great  man.  I  tell  you ;  King  Wil- 
liam, number  four,  I  guess,  would  be  no  match  for 
him  as  an  orator  —  he'd  talk  him  out  of  sight  in 
half  an  hour.  If  he  was  in  vour  House  of  Commons, 
i  reckon  he'd  make  some  of  your  great  folks  look 
()retty  streaked  ;  he's  a  true  patriot  and  statesman, 


% 


Jill 


Ml 


t20 


THE   CLOCKMAKEIl. 


tilt;  first  in  our  country,  and  a  most  particular  cute 
luwytT.  Tin  re  was  a  QuakiT  chap  too  cuto  for  him 
once  thoui^h.  Tliis  (Quaker,  a  pretty  knowin'  old 
shaver,  had  a  cause  down  to  Rhode  Ishnul  ;  so  he 
went  to  Daniel  to  hire  him  to  go  down  and  pleaa 
his  case  for  him  ;  so  says  he,  '  Lawyer  Webster 
what's  your  fee  ?  '  '  Why,'  says  Daniel,  '  let  me  see 
I  have  to  '^n  down  South  to  Washington,  to  plead 
the  great  insurance  case  of  tiie  Hartford  Company 
—  and  I've  got  to  be  at  Cincimiati  to  attend  the 
Omvention,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  go  to  Rhode 
Island  witiiout  great  loss  and  great  fatigue  ;  it  would 
cost  you  may  be  more  than  you'd  be  willing  to 
give.' 

"  Well,  the  Quaker  looked  pretty  white  about  the 
gills,  I  tell  you,  when  he  heard  this,  for  he  could  not 
do  without  him  no  how,  and  he  did  not  like  this 
preliminary  talk  of  his  at  all.  At  last  he  made  bold 
to  ask  him  the  worst  of  it.  what  he  would  take? 
*  Wl'.y,'  says  Daniel,  'I  always  liked  the  Quakers, 
they  are  a  quiet,  peaceable  people  who  never  go  to 
law  if  they  can  helj)  it,  and  it  vould  be  better  for 
our  great  country  if  there  were  more  such  people  in 
it.  I  never  seed  or  heerd  tell  of  any  harm  in  'em 
except  going  tho  whole  figure  for  Gineral  Jackson, 
and  that  everlasting,  almijihtv  villain.  Van  Huren  ; 
yes,  1  love  the  Quakers,  I  hope  they'll  go  the  Web. 
ster  ticket  yet ;  and  I'll  go  for  you  as  low  as  I  can 
any  way  afford,  say  —  one  thousand  dollars.' 

The  Quaker  well  """b   fainted  when  he  heard 


i 


I 
J 


liar  cute 
for  him 

rvln'  old 
1 ;  so  he 
id  j)l('a(\ 
iVebster 
nie  see 
;o  plojid 
iompaiiy 
end  the 
)  Rhode 
H  would 
lling   to 

)oiit  the 
Duld  not 
ike  this 
ide  bold 
d  take? 
Jiiakers, 
er  go  to 
etter  for 
eople  in 
\  in  'em 
Fackson, 
Biiren  ; 
le  Web- 
as  I  can 

e  heerd 


i 


::0NVKRSAT10NS  AT  THE  RIVER  PHILIP.    21 

this,  but  he  was  pretty  deep  too;  so  says  he,  '  Law- 
yer, that's  a  great  deal  of  money,  l)ut  I  havo  more 
causes  there;  if  I  liive  vou  the  one  tliousand  dollars 
will  you  plead  the  other  cases  1  shall  have  to  give 
you  ?  '  *  Yes,'  says  Daniel,  •  I  will  to  the  best  of  my 
humble  abilities.*  So  down  they  went  to  Khoile 
Isl'fud,  and  Daniel  tried  the  case  and  cariied  it  lor 
the  Quaker.  VV^ell,  the  Quaker  he  goes  round  to  all 
the  folks  that  had  suits  in  court,  and  says  he,  '  What 
will  you  give  me  if  1  get  the  great  Daniel  to  plead 
for  you  ?  It  cost  me  one  thousand  dollars  ibr  a  fee, 
but  now  he  and  1  are  pretty  thick,  and  as  he  is  on 
the  spot,  I'll  get  him  to  plead  cheap  for  you.'  So 
he  got  three  hundred  dollars  from  one,  and  two  from 
another,  and  so  on,  until  he  got  eleven  hundred  dol- 
lars, jist  one  hundred  dollars  more  than  he  gave. 
Daniel  was  in  a  great  rage  when  he  heerd  this. 
'What!*  said  he,  'do  you  think  1  would  agree  to  your 
lettinji  me  out  like  a  horse  to  hire  ?  '  '  Friend  Dan- 
iel,'  said  the  Quaker,  •  didst  thou  not  undertake  to 
plead  all  such  cases  as  I  should  have  to  give  thee  ; 
If  thou  wilt  not  stand  to  thy  agreement,  neither  will 
I  stand  to  mine.'  Daniel  laughed  out  ready  to  split 
his  sides  at  this.  '  Well,'  says  he,  'I  guess  I  might 
as  well  stand  still  for  you  to  put  the  bridle  on  this 
eime,  for  you  have  fairly  pinned  me  up  in  a  corner 
of  the  fence  anyhow.'  So  he  went  good  humoredly 
o  work  and  pleaded  them  all. 

"  This  lazy  fellow,  Puguose,"  continued  the  Clock- 
Tiaker,  "  that  keeps  this  inn,  is  goir.g  to  sell  off  and 


3 


i 

I 


22 


THE   CLOCKMAKER, 


go  to  the  States;  he  says  lie  lias  to  work  too  hard 
here  ;  that  tlie  markets  are  dull,  and  the  winters  too 
lon<T ;  and  he  iiiiesses  he  can  live  easier  there;  I 
iruess  he'll  find  his  mistake  afore  he  has  heen  there 
long.  Why,  our  country  ain't  to  be  compared  to  this 
on  no  account  whatever ;  our  country  never  made 
us  to  be  the  Jireat  nation  we  are,  but  we  made  the 
country.  [low  on  airth  could  we,  if  we  were  all  like 
old  Puf^nose,  as  lazy,  as  ugly,  make  that  cold,  thin 
soil  of  New  England  produce  what  it  does?  Why, 
sir,  the  land  between  Boston  and  Salem  would 
starve  a  flock  of  geese:  and  yet  look  at  Salem;  it 
has  more  cash  than  would  buy  Nova  Scotia  from  the 
King.  We  rise  early,  live  frugally,  and  work  late ; 
what  we  sret  we  take  care  of.  To  all  this  we  add 
enterprise  and  intelligence;  a  feller  who  finds  work 
too  hard  here,  had  better  not  go  to  the  States.  I 
met  an  Irishman,  one  Pat  Lannigan,  last  week,  who 
had  just  returned  from  the  States.  *  Why,'  says  I, 
'  Pat,  what  on  airlh  brought  you  back  ?  '  '  Bad  luck 
to  them,'  says  Pat,  'iff  warn't  properly  bit.  "  What 
do  you  get  a  day  in  Nova  Scotia  ? "  says  Judge  Beler 
to  me.  '■•  P^)ur  shillings,  your  Lordship,"  says  I. 
''There  are  no  Lords  here."  says  he,'-  we  are  all  free. 
Well,"  savs  he,  "■  I'll  orive  vou  as  much  in  one  i'.av  as 
you  can  earn  there  in  two ;  V\\  give  you  eight  shil- 
lings." "  Long  life  to  your  Lordship,"  says  L  So 
next  day  to  it  I  went  wiili  a  party  of  men  a  ditrrring 
a  piece  of  canal,  and  if  it  wasn't  a  hot  day  my  name 
if!  not  Pat  Lannigan,      F^resently  I  looked  up  and 


CONVERSATIONS  AT  THE  RIVER  PHILIP.     23 


itraighteiied  my  back ;  says  I  to  a  comrade  of  mine, 
"  Mick,"  siiys  I,  "  I'm  very  dry ;  "  with  that,  says  the 
overseer,  "  We  don't  allow  gentlemen  to  talk  at  their 
work  in  this  country."  Faith,  I  soon  found  out  for 
my  two  days'  pay  in  one,  I  had  to  do  two  days'  work 
in  one,  and  pay  two  weeks'  board  in  one,  and  at  the 
end  of  a  month,  I  found  myself  no  better  off  in 
pocket  than  in  Nova  Scotia;  while  the  devil  a  bone 
in  my  body  that  didn't  ache  with  pain,  and  as  for 
my  nose,  it  took  to  bleeding,  and  bled  day  and  night 
entirely.  Upon  my  soul,  Mr.  Slick,'  said  he,  '  the 
poor  laborer  does  not  last  long  in  your  country ; 
what  with  new  rum,  hard  labor,  an  ]  hot  weather, 
you'll  see  the  graves  ^f  the  Irisli  each  side  of  the 
canal,  for  all  the  world  like  two  rows  of  potatoes  in  a 
field  that  have  forgot  to  come  up.' 

"  Tt  is  a  land,  sir,"  continued  the  Clockmaker,  "of 
hard  work.  We  have  two  kinds  of  slaves,  the  nijxsers 
and  the  white  slaves.  All  European  laborers  and 
blacks,  who  come  out  to  u«,  do  our  hard  bodily  work, 
while  we  direct  it  to  a  profitable  end  ;  neither  rich 
nor  poor,  high  nor  low,  vvith  us,  eat  the  bread  of  idle- 
ness. Our  whole  capital  is  in  active  operaticm,  and 
our  whole  population  is  in  active  employment.  An 
idle  fellow,  like  Pugnose,  who  runs  away  to  us,  is 
clapt  into  harness  afore  he  knows  where  he  is,  and  is 
made  to  work  ;  like  a  horse  that  refuses  to  draw,  he 
's  put  into  the  team-boat ;  he  finds  some  before  him 
and  others  behind  him;  he  must  either  draw,  or  be 
dragged  to  deatl  ." 


^% 


4i; 


1)1 


i1 

if,?- 


I'    }\ 


f  r 


ll|ituv-^-*i'.iilH|ll|||iL|iil|irj:i--'i|i 


illu-iiiMijii[iijjjii[ii!i,iJiijiiiyiiii*iv^""*'''iiliiil|i 


4 


CHAPTER    V. 


JUSTICE  PETTIFOG. 


In  the  morninir  the  Clockmaker  informed  me 
that  a  justice's  court  was  to  be  held  that  day 
at  Pugnose's  inn,  and  he  guessed  he  could  do  a 
little  business  among  the  country  folks  that  would 
be  assembled  there.  Some  of  them,  he  said,  owed 
him  for  clocks,  and  it  would  save  him  the  world  of 
travelling,  to  have  the  justice  and  constable  to 
drive  them  up  together.  "  If  you  want  a  fit  wether, 
there's  nothing  like  penning  up  the  whole  flock  in  a 
corner.  I  guess,"  said  he,  "  if  General  Campbell 
knew  what  sort  of  a  man  that  ere  magistrate  was, 
he'd  disband  him  pretty  quick  ;  he's  a  regular  suck- 
egg —  a  disgrace  to  the  country.  I  guess  if  he  acted 
that  way  in  Ker  tucky,  he'd  get  a  breakfast  of  cold 
lead  some  morn'ng,  out  of  the  small  eend  of  a  rifle, 
he'd  find  prettj  difficult  to  digest.  They  tell  me 
he  issues  three  hundred  writs  a  year,  the  cost  of 
which,  including  that  tarnation  constable's  fees,  can't 
amount  to  nothing  less  tiian  three  tl)ousand  dollars 
per  annum.  If  t!»e  llon'ble  Daniel  Webster  had  him 
afore  a  jury,  1  reckon  ht'd  uirn  him  inside  out,  a»id 


JUSTICE  PETTIFOG. 


25 


slip  him  back  again,  as  quick  as  an  old  stocking 
He'd  paint  him  to  the  life,  as  plain  to  be  known  as 
the  head  of  Gineral  Jackson.  He's  jist  a  fit  feller 
for  Lynch  law,  to  be  tried,  hanged,  and  damned,  all 
at  once ;  there's  more  nor  liim  in  the  country  — 
there's  some  of  the  breed  in  every  country  in  the 
Province,  jist  one  or  two  to  do  the  dirty  work,  as  we 
keep  niggers  for  jobs  that  would  give  a  white  man 
the  cholera.  They  ought  to  pay  his  passage,  as  we 
do  such  critters,  tell  him  his  place  is  taken  in  the 
mail  coach,  and  if  he  is  found  here  after  twenty- 
four  hours,  they'd  make  a  carpenter's  plumb-bob  of 
him,  and  hang  him  outside  the  church  steeple,  to  try 
if  it  was  perpendicular.  He  almost  always  gives 
judgment  for  plaintiff,  and  if  the  poor  defendant  has 
an  offset,  he  makt^s  him  sue  it,  so  that  it  grinds  a 
grist  both  ways  for  him,  like  the  upper  and  lower 
millstone." 

People  soon  began  to  assemble,  some  on  foot,  and 
others  on  horseback  and  in  waijfons.  Pugnose's 
tavern  was  all  bustle  and  confusion — plaiiitiffs,  de- 
fendants, and  witnesses  all  talking,  quarreling,  ex- 
plaining, and  drinking.  "  Flere  comes  the  Squire,'* 
said  one.  "  I'm  thinkins:  his  horse  carries  more 
roguery  than  law,"  said  ano':aer.  "They  must  have 
been  in  proper  want  of  timber  to  make  a  justice  of,'* 
f.aid  a  third,  "when  they  took  such  a  crooked  stick 
as  that."  "  Sap-headed  enough  too  for  refuse,"  said 
»  stout  looking  farmer.  '*Mav  be  so,"  said  another, 
*  but  as  hard  at  the  heart  as  a  log  of  elm."     "  How- 


V' 


'  n 


I  1 


I    i 

I 

i  ,■    i  I 


^1 


if 


2*3 


1  UK   CL  0  a  KM  A  KER. 


somever,*'  said  a  third,  "  I  h()i)e  it  won't  be  long  afore 
he  has  the  wainv  ediie  scored  off  of  him,  anyhow." 
IMany  more  such  remarks  were  made,  all  drawn 
from  iamiliar  objects,  but  all  expressive  of  bitter- 
ness and  contempt. 

lie  carried  one  or  two  lari>e  books  with  him  in  his 
gig,  with  a  considerable  roll  of  papers.  As  soon  as 
the  obsequious  Mr.  Pugnose  saw  him  at  the  door,  he 
assisted  him  to  alight,  ushered  him  into  the  "  best 
room,"  and  desired  the  constable  to  attend  "  the 
Squire."  The  crowd  immediately  entered,  and  the 
constable  opened  the  court  in  due  form,  and  com- 
manded silence. 

Takin"-  out  nlonolist  of  causes,  Mr.  Pettifoij  com- 
nienced  reading  the  names :  "  James  Sharp  versus 
John  Sluir  —  call  John  SIult."  John  Shiij  beinix  duly 
called  and  not  answering,  was  defiulted.  Jn  this 
manner  he  proceeded  to  default  some  twenty  or 
thirty  persons.  At  last  he  came  to  a  cause,  *'  William 
Hare  versus  Dennis  O'Brien  —  call  Dennis  O'Brien." 
*'  Here  I  am,"  said  a  voice  from  the  other  room,— 
"  here  I  am ;  who  has  anything  to  say  to  Dennis 
O'Brien  ?  " 

"  ;Make  less  noise,  sir,"  said  the  Justice,  "  or  I'll 
commit  vou." 

''  Commit  nie,  is  it?''  said  Denni':,  "  take  care  then, 
Squire,  vou  don't  commit  vourself." 

"You  are  sued  by  William  Hare  for  three  pounds 
'or  a  month's  board  and  lodging;  what  have  you  t(7 
Bay  to  it  ?  " 

"  Say  to  it?  "  said  Dennis,  "  did  vou  ever  hear  whal 


li 


JUSTICE  PETTIFOG. 


27 


;ii 


'11, 


at 


Tim  Doyle  said  wlien  he  was  going  to  be  hanged  for 
stealing  a  pig  ?  Says  he,  '  If  the  pig  hadn't  squealed 
in  the  bag,  I'd  never  have  been  found  out,  so  J 
wouldn't.'  So  I'll  take  warning  by  Tim  Doyle's 
iate  ;  I  say  nothing,  —  let  hitn  prove  it."  Here  Mr. 
Hare  was  called  on  for  his  proof,  but  taking  it  for 
granted  that  the  board  would  be  admitted,  and  the 
defense  opened,  he  was  not  prepared  with  proof. 

"•  I  demand,"  said  Dennis,  "  I  demand  an  unsuit." 

Here  there  was  a  consultation  between  the  Justice 
and  the  ])laintiff,  when  the  Justice  said, ''I  shall  not 
nonsuit  him,  1  shall  continue  the  cause."  "•  What, 
hang  it  up  till  next  court?  You  had  better  hang 
me  \\\)  then  at  once,  ilow  can  a  poor  man  come 
here  so  often  ?  This  may  be  the  entertainment  Puo-- 
nose  advertises  for  horses,  but  by  Jacquers,  it  is  no 
entertainment  for  me.  I  admit  then,  sooner  than 
co<iie  aoain,  I  admit  it." 

'•  You  admit  you  owe  him  three  pounds  then  for  a 
month's  board  ?  " 

"  I  admit  no  such  thing  ;  I  say  I  boarded  with  him 
a  month,  and  was  like  Pat  Moran's  cow  at  the  end 
of  it,  at  the  lifting,  bad  luck  to  him."  A  neighbor 
was  here  called,  who  proved  that  the  three  pounds 
might  be  the  usual  price.  "  And  do  you  know  I 
tauiiht  his  children  to  write  at  the  school  ?  "  said 
Dennis.  "You  mi<>ht,"  answered  the  witness.  "And 
what  is  that  worth  ? "  "1  don't  know."  ''  You 
don't  know?  Faith,  I  believe  you're  right,"  said 
Dennis,  "  for  if  the  children  are  half  as  big  rogues 
•B  the  faither,  they  mijght   leave  writing   a^one,  or 


V 


'^ 


f 

I:. 


28 


THE   CLOCK  MAKE  II. 


they'd  be  like  to  be  hanoed  for  fbioery."  Here 
Dennis  ])roduced  his  account  for  teaching  five  chil- 
dren, two  qnaiters,  at  nine  shillings  a  quarter  each, 
£4  10s.  '•!  am  sorry,  Mr.  O'Hrien,"  said  the  Jus- 
tice, "  very  sorry,  but  your  defense  will  not  avail 
you  ;  your  account  is  too  large  for  one  Justice ;  any 
Bum  over  three  pounds  must  be  sued  before  two 
ma<jistrates." 

"  But  I  only  want  to  offset  as  much  as  will  pay 
the  board." 

"  It  can't  be  done  in  this  shape,"  said  the  magis- 
trate ;  "  I  will  consult  Justice  Doolittle,  my  neigh- 
bor, afid  if  Mr.  Hare  won't  settle  with  you,  I  will 
sue  it  for  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Dennis,  "  all  I  have  to  say  is,  that 
there  is  not  so  hUz  a  roizue  as  Mare  on  the  whole 
river,  save  and  except  one  scoundrel  who  shall  be 
nameless  ; "  niakinn:  a  si<>nificant  and  humble  bow 
to  the  Justice.  Here  there  was  a  oeneral  laui^h 
throughout  the  court.  Denni-  retired  to  the  next 
room  to  itulenniify  himself  by  another  glass  of  grog, 
and  vent' no  his  abuse  aoainst  Hare  and  the  maois- 
trate.  Disgusted  at  the  gross  partiality  of  the  Jus- 
tice, 1  also  quitted  the  court,  fully  concurring  in  the 
opinion,  though  not  in  the  language,  that  Dennis 
was  ijivinor  utterance  to  in  the  bar-room. 

Pettifog  owed  his  elevation  to  his  interest  at  an 
election.  Il  is  to  be  hoped  that  his  subsequent 
merits  will  be  as  promptly  rewarded,  by  his  dis- 
.nissal  from  a  bench  which  he  disgraces  and  defiles 
bj  his  presence. 


(I 


CHAPTER  VI. 


i:i 


ANECDOTES. 

As  we  mounted  our  horses  to  proceed  to  Am- 
herst, groups  of  country  people  were  to  be  seen 
standing  about  Pugnose's  inn,  talkinsr  over  the 
events  of  the  morning,  while  others  were  dispersing 
to  their  several  homes. 

"  A  pretty  prime,  superfine  scoundrel,  that  Petti- 
fog," said  the  Clockmaker:  "lie  and  his  constable 
are  well  mated  ;  and  they've  travelled  in  the  same 
orear  so  lonjj  together,  tliat  thev  make  about  as  nice 
a  voke  of  rascals  as  voall  meet  in  a  dav's  ride. 
They  pull  together  like  one  rope  reeved  through 
two  blocks.  That  'ere  constable  was  e'enamost 
strangled  t'other  day ;  and  if  he  hadn't  had  a  little 
grain  more  wit  than  his  master,  I  guess  he'd  had 
his  windpipe  stopped  as  tight  as  a  bladder.  There 
is  an  outlaw  of  a  feller  here,  for  all  the  world  like 
one  of  our  Kentucky  squatters,  one  Bill  Smith  —  a 
critter  thrt  neither  fears  man  nor  devil.  Sheriff 
^nd  constable  can  make  no  hand  of  him ;  they 
can't  catch  him  no  how ;  and  if  they  do  come  up 
mth  him,  he  slips  through  their  fingers  like  an  eel ! 


!l 


n 


V: 


80 


THE   CLOCK  MAKER. 


and  tlioii,  he  goes  armed,  and  he  can  knock  the  eye 
out  of  a  squirrel  with  a  hall,  at  fifty  yards  hund 
runnino,  —  a  regular  ugly  customer. 

"  Well,  Nahh,  the  constahle,  had  a  writ  agin  him, 
and  he  was  ciphering  a  good  while  how  he  should 
catch  him  ;  at  last  he  hit  on  a  plan  that  he  thought 
was  pretty  clever,  and  he  schemed  for  a  chance  to 
try  it.  So  one  day  he  heerd  that  liill  was  up  at 
Pugnose's  inn,  a  settling  some  husiness,  and  was 
likely  to  he  there  all  night.  Nabh  waits  till  it  was 
considerable  late  in  the  eveninix,  and  then  he  takes 
his  horse  and  rides  down  to  the  inn.  and  hitches  his 
beast  behind  the  haystack.  Then  he  crawls  up  to 
the  window  and  peeps  in,  and  watches  there  till  Bill 
should  fjo  to  bed,  thinkinix  the  best  way  to  catch 
them  'ere  sort  of  animals  is  to  catch  them  asleep. 
Well,  he  kept  Nabb  a  waiting  outside  so  long,  with 
his  talking  and  singing,  that  lie  well  nigh  fell  asleep 
first  himself.  At  last  l^ill  began  to  strip  for  bed. 
First,  he  takes  out  a  long  pocket  pistol,  examines 
the  priming,  and  lays  it  down  on  the  table  near  the 
head  of  the  bed. 

*•  When  Nabi)  sees  this,  he  begins  to  creep  like 
all  over,  and  feel  kinder  ugly,  and  rather  sick  of  his 
job;  but  when  he  seed  hiin  jump  into  bed,  and 
heerd  him  snore  out  a  noise  like  a  man  driving  pigs 
to  market,  he  plucked  up  courage,  and  thought  he 
might  do  it  easy  arter  all  if  he  was  to  open  the  door 
soltl)  and  make  one  spring  on  him  afore  he  could 
Urake.     So  round  he  goes,  lifts  up  the  latch  of  his 


ANECDOTES. 


81 


door  as  soft  as  soap,  and  makes  a  jmnp  right  atop 
of  him,  as  he  lay  on  the  bed.  '  I  guess  I  got  you 
this  time,'  said  Nabb.  '  I  guess  so  too,'  said  liill, 
'  but  I  wish  you  wouldn't  lay  so  plaguy  heavy  on 
nie ;  jist  turn  over,  that's  a  good  fellow,  will  you?' 
With  that,  Bill  lays  his  arm  on  him  to  raise  him  up, 
for  he  said  he  was  squeezed  as  Hat  as  a  pancake  ; 
and  afore  Nabb  knew  where  he  was,  Bill  rolled  him 
right  over,  and  was  atop  of  him.  Then  he  seized 
him  by  the  throat,  and  twisted  his  pipe  till  his  eyes 
were  as  bi<j  as  saucers,  and  his  tontrue  i^rew  six 
inches  longer,  while  he  kept  making  faces,  for  all 
the  world  like  the  pirate  that  was  hanged  on  Monu- 
ment Hill,  at  BostoH.  It  was  pretty  near  over  with 
him,  when  Nabb  thought  of  his  spurs  ;  so  he  just 
curled  up  both  heels,  and  drove  the  spurs  right  into 
him ;  he  let  him  have  it  jist  below  his  crupper.  As 
Bill  was  naked,  he  had  a  fair  chance,  and  he  rao;ored 
him  like  the  leaf  of  a  book  cut  open  with  your 
finger.  At  last,  Bill  could  stand  it  no  longer ;  he 
let  go  his  hold,  and  roared  like  a  bull,  and  clapping 
both  hands  ahind  him,  he  out  of  the  door  like  a 
ihot.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  them  'ere  spurs,  I  guess 
Bill  would  have  saved  the  hangman  a  job  of  Nabb 
Ihat  time." 

The  Clockmaker  was  an  observiuii  man,  and 
equjilly  communicative.  Nothing  escaped  his  no- 
tice ;  he  knew  everybody's  genealogv,  history,  and 
Cleans,  and  like  a  driver  of  an  Enulish  staii^e-coach, 
was  not  unwilling  to  impart  what  he  knew.     "  Do 


\ 


i'1 


i! 


I) 


m 


'■  i- 


32 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


you  see  that  smig-Iookiiii,^  Iioiiso  there,"  sairl  he,  "  with 
II  short  sarce  pardcu  afore  it  ?  tluit  beion^fs  to  Ehler 
Thomson.  The  Elder  is  pretty  close-fisted,  and 
hohls  special  fast  to  :dl  he  ji^ets.  lie  is  a  just  man 
•and  very  pious ;  l)ut  I  lia\'e  observed  when  a  man 
becomes  near  about  too  j^jood,  he  is  a[)t,  sometimes, 
to  sh'p  ahead  into  avarice,  iirdess  he  looks  sharper 
wvU'Y  his  oirths.  A  friend  of  mine  in  Connecticut, 
an  old  sea  captain,  who  was  once  let  in  for  it  pretty 
deep  by  a  man  witb  a  broader  brim  than  conmion, 
said  to  me,  *  Friend  Sam,'  says  he,  •  I  don't  like  those 
folks  who  are  too  d — d  irood.'  There  is,  I  expect, 
some  truth  in  it,  thouirb  he  needn't  have  swore  at 
all,  but  he  was  an  awful  hand  to  swear.  Howsoni- 
ever  that  may  be,  there  is  a  story  about  the  Elder 
that's  not  so  coarse  neither. 

"  It  appears  an  old  minister  came  there  once,  to 
hold  a  meetin'  at  his  house:  well,  after  meetin'  was 
over,  the  Elder  took  the  minister  all  over  his  farm, 
which  is  pretty  tidy,  I  tell  you ;  and  lie  showed  him 
a  great  ox  he  had,  and  a  swinijeing  big  pig,  that 
weigh'id  some  six  or  seven  hundred  weight,  that  he 
was  plaguy  proud  of;  but  he  never  offered  the  old 
minis::er  anything  to  eat  or  drink.  The  preacher 
was  pretty  tired  of  all  this,  and  seeing  no  prospect 
of  being  asked  to  partake  with  the  fainily,  and  toler- 
ably sharp  set,  he  asked  one  of  the  boys  to  fetch  him 
his  horse  out  of  the  barn.  When  he  was  taking 
.eave  of  the  Elder  (there  were  several  folks  by  at 
the  time),  says  he,  '  Elder  Thomson,  you  have  a  fine 


w 


,« 


n 


with 


,* 


■^.--    '>, 


.-;t,  V'/^- 


r/, 


.-i::^' 


r: 


1  I 


Pi 


1  4» 


I  4  i 


i  ■ 


ANECDOTES. 


83 


farm  liere,  a  very  fiiui  farni  indood  ;  you  have  a  large 
ox  too,  a  very  large  ox  ;  and  1  thifd</said  he,  'I've 
seen  to-day'  (turninj^  and  lookini;  liini  full  in  the 
face,  for  he  intended  to  hit  him  [)retty  hard),  'I 
tliinii  I  have  seen  to-day  the  greatest  hoji  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life.'  The  neighbors  snickered  a  good  deal, 
and  the  Elder  felt  pretty  streaked.  I  guess  he'd  give 
his  great  pig  or  his  great  ox  either,  if  that  story 
hadn't  got  wind." 


I  s 


i,:\ 
'^'^f 


i 


?! 


CHAPTER  VII. 


GO    AHEAD. 

When  we  resumed  our  conversation,  the  Clock 
maker   said,  "  I  cuess  we  are  tiie    jzreiitest    nation 
on  tlie  face  of  the  airtii,  and  the  most  enlightened 
too." 

This  was  ratner  too  arrogant  to  pass  'unnoticed, 
and  I  was  about  replyinj:^,  that  whatever  doubts 
there  might  be  on  that  subject,  there  could  be  none 
whatever  that  they  were  the  most  modest,  when  he 
continued,  '•  We  'go  ahead  ;'  the  Xova  Scotians  'go 
astarn.'  Our  ships  go  ahead  of  the  ships  of  other 
folks,  our  steamboats  beat  the  P)ritish  in  speed,  and 
so  do  our  stage-coaches  ;  and  1  reckon  a  real  rigul 
down  New  ^.'ork  trotter  miglit  stumj)  the  univarse 
for  "oinof  ahead,  l^ut  since  we  introduced  the  rail- 
roads,  if  we  don't  go  ahead,  it's  a  pity.  We  never 
fairly  knew  what  <j;oing  the  m  hole  hoir  was  till  then  ; 
we  actillv  went  ahead  of  ourselves,  and  that's  no 
easy  matter  I  tell  you.  If  they  only  had  edication 
here,  they  might  learn  to  do  so  too,  but  they  don't 
know  nothin'." 

"  You  undervalue  them,'  said  I :  ''  they  have  their 


li 


I'  I 


GO  AHEAD. 


35 


college  and  aciideniies,  their  grammar  schools  and 
primary  institutions,  and  I  believe  there  are  f"W 
amonjTf  them  who  cannot  read  and  write." 

'•  I  ouess  all  that's  nothin',"  said  he.  "  As  for 
Latin  and  Greek,  we  dont  vally  it  a  cent ;  we  teach  it, 
and  so  we  do  painting  and  music,  because  the  English 
do,  and  we  like  to  go  ahead  on  'em,  even  in  thei^i 
ore  things.  As  for  reading,  it's  well  enough  for  them 
that  has  nothing  to  do  ;  and  writing  is  plaguy  apt  to 
hrl:»g  a  man  to  states-prison,  particularly  '"he  writes 
his  name  so  like  another  man  as  to  ha^'e  it  mistaken 
for  his'n.  Ciphering  is  the  thing.  Jf  a  man  knows 
how  to  cipher,  he  is  sure  to  grow  rich.  We  are  a 
'calculating  '  people  ;  we  all  cipher. 

"  A  horse  that  won't  go  ahead  is  apt  to  run  back, 
and  the  more  you  whip  him  the  faster  he  goes  astarn. 
That's  jist  the  way  with  the  Nova  Scotians ;  they 
have  been  running  back  so  fast  lately,  that  they  have 
tumbled  over  a  bank  or  two,  and  nearly  broke  their 
necks ;  and  now  they've  got  up  and  shook  them- 
selves, they  swear  their  dirty  clothes  und  bloody 
noses  are  all  owing  to  the  banks.  I  guess  if  they 
won't  look  ahead  for  the  future,  they'll  larn  to  look 
behind,  and  see  if  there's  a  bank  near  hand  'em. 

'■  A  bear  always  goes  down  a  tree  starn  foremost. 
He  is  a  cunning  critter ;  he  knows  'tain't  safe  to  cf  rry 
a  heavy  load  over  his  head,  and  his  rump  is  so  h  javy 
he  don't  like  to  trust  it  over  his'n,  for  fear  it  might 
take  a  lurch,  and  carry  him  heels  over  head  to  the 
ground  ;  so  he  lets  his  !>tarn  down  first,  and  his  head 


I 


36 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


uild  find  as  good 


after.  I  wisli  the  Bluenoses 
excuse  in  their  rumps  for  running  backwards  as  he 
has.  But  the  bear 'ciphers  ; '  he  '.nows  how  many 
pounds  his  hanis  weii^h,  and  he  'calculates'  if  he 
carried  tiiem  up  in  the  air,  they  might  be  top  heavy 
for  him. 

"  Jf  we  had  this  Province  we'd  go  to   work  and 
cipher '    right   off.     Halifax  is    nothing  without   a 
river  or  back  country;  add  nothing  to  nothing-,  and 
I  iruess  vou  have  nothinjx  still  ;    add  a  railroad   to 
the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  how  much  do  you  git?     That 
requires   ciphering.     It    will    cost    three     hundred 
thousand  dollars,  or  seventy-five    thousand    pounds 
vour  .'^lonev;   add  for  notions  omitted  in  the  addi- 
tion  column,  one  third,  and  it  makes  it  even  monev, 
one   hundr(id  thousand  ])ounds ;  interest  at  five  per 
cent.,  live  thousand  pounds  a  year.     Now  turn  over 
the  slate,  and  count  up  freight.     I  make  it  upwards 
of  twenty 'five    thousimd  pounds  a  year.     If  I  had 
you  at  the  desk,  I'd  show  you  a  bill  of  items.     Now 
comes  'sul)tracti()n  ; '  deduct  cost  of  engines,  wear 
and  tear  and  expenses,  and  what  not,  and  reduce  it 
for  shortness  down  to  five  thor.sand  pounds  a  year, 
the  amount  of  interest,     Wliat  figures  have  you  got 
now  ?    You  have  an  investment  that  pays  interest,  I 
guess,    and    if  it  don't  ])ay  more,  then  I  don't  know 
chalk  from  cheese.     But  suppose  it  don't,  and  that 
it  only  yields  two  atid  a  lialf  i)er  cent,  (and  it  requires 
good  ci))hering,  I   tell  you,  to  say  how  it  would  act 
with  folks  that  like  going  astarn  better  than  going 


•I  •;<!' 


GO  AHEAD. 


87 


got 


Rliead),  what  would  them  'ere  wise  ones  say  then  ? 
Why,  tlie  critters  would  say  it  won't  pay  ;  but  I  say 
the  sum  ain't  half  stated.  Can  you  count  in  your 
head?" 

"Not  to  any  extent,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  that's  an  etarnal  pity,"  said  the  Clock- 
maker,  "for  I  should  like  to  show  you  Yankee 
ciphering.  What  is  the  entire  real  estate  of  Hali- 
fax worth,  at  a  valeation  ?  " 

"  I  really  cannot  say." 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  '•  1  see  you  don't  cipher,  and  Latin 
and  Greek  won't  do  ;  them  'ere  people  had  no  rail- 
road. Well,  find  out,  and  then  only  add  ten  per 
cent,  to  it  for  increased  value,  and  if  it  don't  give 
the  cost  of  a  railroad,  then  my  name  is  not  Sam 
Slick.  W  ell,  the  land  between  Halifax  and  Ardoise 
is  worth — nothiiig  ;  add  five  per  cent,  to  that,  and 
send  the  sum  to  the  collepe  and  ax  the  students  how 
much  it  comes  to.  But  when  you  get  into  Hants 
County,  I  guess  you  have  land  worth  coming  all  the 
vvav  from  lioston  to  see.  His  Roval  Hiiihness  the 
King,  1  guess,  hasn't  got  the  like  in  his  dominions. 
Well,  add  fifteen  per  cent,  to  all  them 'ere  lands  that 
border  on  AVindsor  Basin,  and  five  per  cent,  to  what 
'buts  on  basin  o^  Mines,  and  then  what  do  you  get? 
A  pretty  considerable  sum,  I  tell  you  ;  but  it's  no 
use  to  give  you  the  chnd'Sy  if  you  can't  keep  the  taU 
lies. 

"  Now  we  will  lay  down  the  schoolmaster's  assist- 
ant, and  take  up  another  book  every  bit  and  grain 


ii  i  - 


lil 


1    ' 


*•*! 


Ill 


I    ' 


38 


rilE    CLOCKMAKhn. 


as  j:jood  as  that,  altlioii<ijh  those  folks  aflect  to  sneer 
at  it — I  mean  human  natur'." 

"  All !  "  said  1,  "  a  knowledge  of  that  was  of  great 
service  to  you,  certainly,  in  the  sale  of  your  clock  to 
the  old  Deacon;  let  us  see  how  it  will  assist  you 
now." 

'^  What  does  a  clock  wane  that's  run  down  ?  "  said 
he. 

"  Undoubtedly  to  be  wound  up,"  I  replied. 

''I  ouess  you've  hit  it  this  time.  The  folks  of 
Halifax  have  run  down,  and  they'll  never  go,  to  all 
etarnitv,  till  thev  are  wound  uji  into  motion  ;  the 
works  are  all  good,  and  it  is  plaguy  well  cased  and 
set;  it  onlv  wants  a  kev.  Put  this  railroad  into 
operation,  and  the  activity  it  will  inspire  into  busi- 
ness, the  new  life  it  will  give  the  place,  will  surprise 
vou.  It's  like  liftinij:  a  child  off  its  crawlini:-,  and 
putting  him  on  his  legs  to  run  —  see  how  the  little 
critter  goes  ahead  arter  that.  A  kurnel  —  I  don't 
mean  a  Kurnel  of  militia,  for  we  don't  vallv  that 
breed  o' cattle  noihinix;  thev  do  nothin<>-  but  strut 
about  and  screech  all  day,  like  peacocks — but  a 
kurnel  of  grain,  when  sowed,  will  stool  into  several 
shoots,  and  each  shoot  bear  manv  kurnels,  and  will 
multiply  itself  thus:  four  times  one  is  four,  and 
four  times  twenty-five  is  one  hundred  (you  see  all 
natur'  ciphers,  except  the  Bluenoses).  Jist  so,  this 
ere  railroarl  will  not,  j)erhaps.  beget  other  railroads, 
but  it  will  beget  a  spirit  of  enterprise,  that  will 
beget  other  useful  improvements.     It  will  enlarge 


GO  AHEAD. 


39 


the  sphere  and  the  meuns  of  trade,  open  new 
sources  of  traffic  and  supply,  develop  resources, 
and  what  is  of  more  value  perhaps  than  all,  beget 
motion.  It  will  teach  the  folks  that  iio  astarn  or 
stand  stock  still,  like  the  State  House  in  Boston 
(though  they  do  say  the  foundation  of  that  has 
moved  a  little  this  summer),  not  only  to  '  go  ahead,' 
but  to  nullify  time  and  space." 

Here  his  horse  (who,  feeling  the  animation  of  his 
master,  had  been  restive  of  late)  set  off  at  a  most 
prodigious  rate  of  trotting.  It  was  some  time  be- 
fore he  was  reined  up.  When  I  overtook  him,  the 
Clockmaker  said,  '•  This  old  Yaidiee  horse,  you  see, 
understan.ls  our  word  'go  ahead'  better  nor  these 
Blue  noses. 

'*  What  is  it,''  he  continued,  '•' ivhat  is  it  that  ^  fet- 
ters '  the  heels  of  a  young  country,  and  hangs  like  '  a 
poke '  around  its  neck  ?  ivhat  retards  the  cultivation 
of  its  soil,  and  the  improvement  of  its  fisheries  ?  The 
high  price  of  labor,  I  guess.  Well,  ivhat's  a  railroad? 
The  substitution  of  mechanical  for  human  and  ani- 
mal labor,  on  a  scale  as  grand  as  our  great  country. 
Labor  is  dear  in  America,  and  cheap  in  Europe. 
A  railroad,  therefore,  is  comporatirely  no  manner  of 
use  to  them,  to  what  it  is  to  us  ;  it  does  loonders  therCj 
hut  it  works  miracles  here.  There  it  makes  the  old 
man  younger,  but  here  it  makes  the  child  a  giant.  To 
us  it  is  river,  bridge,  road,  and  canal,  all  in  one.  It 
taves  what  ive  haint  got  to  spare.  ?nen,  horses,  caris, 
vessels,  barges,  and  what's  nil  in  all —  time. 


*  ;i 


'■'    -H 


dO 


THE   CL  0  CKMA  KER. 


"  Since  the  creation  of  the  Universe,  I  giies^  ^> 
the  cfeiitest  invention,  arter  man.  Now  tliis  is  wnat 
I  call  '  ciplierin<r'  artcr  human  natiir',  while  figures 
are  cipliering  arter  tiie  'assistant.'  These  two  sorts 
of  ciphering  make  edecation  —  and  you  may  depend 
on't,  'inquire,  there  is  nothing  like  folks  ciphering, 
if  they  want  to  '  go  ahead.'  " 


ures 
orts 
tend 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


rilE    PREACH KR    THAT    AVA^DERED    FROM    HIS    TEXT. 

*'  I  GUKSS."  said  the  Clockmaker,  "  we  know  more 
of  Nova  Scotia  than  the  Bluenoses  themselves  do. 
The  Yankees  see  further  ahead  than  most  folks ; 
they  can  e'enamost  see  round  t'other  side  of  a 
thing ;  indeed,  some  on  them  have  hurt  their  eyes 
by  it,  and  sometimes  I  think  that's  the  reason  such 
a  sight  of  them  wear  spectacles.  The  first  I  ever 
heerd  tell  of  Cumberland  was  from  Mi.  Everett 
of  Congress;  he  knowed  as  much  about  it  as  if 
he  had  lived  here  all  his  days,  and  maybe  u  lit- 
tle grain  more.  He  is  a  splendid  man  that ;  we 
class  him  No.  1,  letter  A.  One  night  I  chanced 
to  go  into  General  Peep's  tavern  at  Boston,  and 
who  should  I  see  there  but  the  great  Mr.  Everett, 
a  studying  over  a  map  of  th.e  Province  of  Nova 
Scotia.  '  Why,  it  ain't  possible  ! '  said  I ;  '  if  that 
ain't  Professor  Everett,  as  I  am  alive  !  Why,  how 
Jo  you  do,  Professor?'  Pretty  well,  I  give  you 
thanks,'  said  he  ;  '  how  be  y)u  ?  but  I  ain't  no  longer 
Professor;  I  gin  that  up,  and  also  the  trade  of 
preflching,  and  took  to    politics.'     '  You   don't  say 


■H' 


^f  I 


'i 


i 

i 


42 


THE   Crj.CKMAKER. 


Ro!'  said  I ;  '  wliy,  what  on  airtli  is  tlie  cause  o'  that? 

Why,'  says  lie,  'look  here,  Mr.  Slick.  What  is  the 
use  of  readino-  the  Proverbs  ol  Solomon  to  our  free 
and  enlijfliteii'id  citizens,  that  are  every  mite  and 
morsel  as  wise  as  he  was  ?  That  'ere  man  nndertook 
to  say  there  was  notliiiig  new  under  the  sun.  J 
guess  he'd  think  he  spoke  a  little  too  fast,  if  he  was 
to  see  our  steamboats,  railroads,  and  India  rubber 
shoes  —  three  inventions  wottli  nn^re  nor  all  he 
knew  put  in  a  heap  together.'  '  WjII.  I  don't  know,' 
said  T,  'tut  ^.omehow  or  another  J  guess  you'd  have 
found  preaching  the  best  speculation  in  the  long 
run  ;  them  'ere  Unitarians  p;iy  bcvler  than  Uncle 
Sam.'  (We  call,"  said  ,he  Clockmaker,  "  the  Ameri- 
can public  Uncle  Saui,  as  you  call  the  British  John 
Bull.) 

"That  remark  seemed  to  grig  him  a  little;  he 
felt  oneasy  like,  and  walked  twice  across  the  room, 
fifty  fathoms  deep  in  thought ;  at  last  he  said, 
•Which  way  are  you  from,  Mr.  Slick,  this  hitch  ? ' 
*  Why,'  says  I.  '  I've  been  away  up  South  a  speculat- 
ing in  nutmegs.'  '  I  hope,'  says  the  Professor, 
'  thev  were  a  ijood  article,  the  real  ri«xht  down  ircn- 
nine  thing'"  'No  mistake,'  says  I,  'no  mistake, 
Professor :  they  were  all  prime,  first  chop  ;  but  why 
did  you  ax  that  'ere  question  ? '  '  Why,'  savo  he,  '  that 
eternal  scoundrel  that  Captain  John  Allspice  of 
Nahint.  he  used  to  trade  to  Charleston,  and  he  car 
ried  a  cargo  once  there  of  fifty  l)arrels  of  nutmegs 
^q\\,  he  put  a  haU'  a  bushel  of  ijood  ones  into  each 


I 


;  -y ■■ 


•  ■4.. 


TUK   PREACHER   THAT    WANDERED,  ETC.    43 

eend  of  the  barrel,  and  the  rest  he  filled  up  with 
wooden  ones,  so  like  tlie  real  thin*;,  no  soul  could 
tell  the  dilTerence  until  he  hit  one  with  his  teeth,  and 
tliat  he  never  thoiii^ht  of  doinc,  until  he  was  first 
hit  liimself.  Well,  it's  been  a  standing  joke  with 
them  Southerners  agin  us  ever  since. 

"  '  It  was  only  t'other  day,  at  Washington,  that 
everlasting  Virginny  duellist,  General  Cliffy,  afore  a 
nuniljcr  of  senators,  at  the  President's  house,  said  to 
me,  ''  AVell,  Everett,"  says  he,  "  you  know  I  was 
always  dead  agin  your  Tariff  bill,  but  1  have 
changed  my  mind  since  your  able  speech  on  it ;  I 
shall  vote  for  it  now."  "  Give  me  your  hand,"  says 
I,  "  General  Cuffy  ;  the  Boston  folks  will  be  dread- 
ful glad  when  they  hear  your  splendid  talents  are 
on  our  side.  I  think  it  will  go  now  —  we'll  carry 
it"  ''  Yes,"  says  he,  ''  your  factories  down  East  beat 
all  natur' ;  they  go  ahead  on  the  P^nglish  a  long 
chalk."  You  may  depend  I  was  glad  to  hear  the 
New  Englanders  spoken  of  that  way  ;  I  felt  proud, 
I  tell  you.  "  And  "  says  he,  "  there's  one  manu- 
facture that  might  stump  all  Europe  to  produce  the 
like."  "  What's  that  ?  "  says  I,  looking  as  pleased 
all  the  time  as  a  gal  that's  tickled.  "  Why,"  says 
he,  "  the  'facture  of  wooden  nutmegs ;  that's  a  cap 
sheaf  that  bangs  the  bush  ;  it's  a  real  Yankee  patent 
invention."  With  that  all  the  gentlemen  set  up  a 
'ausfh  vou  misiht  have  heerd  away  down  to  Sandy 
Hook,  and  the  General  gig-gobbled  like  a  great  tur- 
tey-cock, —  the  half  nigger,  half  alligator-like  look- 


y 


14 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


iiig  villain  as  ho  is.  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Slick,' 
Baid  the  Prol'essor,  '  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  them 
'ere  damned  nutme;;s  were  in  the  hottom  of  the 
sea.'  Tiiat  was  the  lirst  oath  I  ever  heerd  hitn  let 
slip  :  but  he  was  dreadful  rih^l,  and  it  made  ine  feel 
iiillv  too,  i'or  it's  awfid  to  hear  a  minister  swear  ; 
and  the  only  match  1  know  for  it,  is  to  hear  a  reg- 
ular sneezer  of  a  sinner  (piote  Scripture.  Says  I, 
'  Mr.  Everett,  that's  the  fruit  that  politics  bears  :  for 
my  part  I  never  seed  a  good  graft  on  it  yet,  that 
bore  anything  good  to  eat,  or  easy  to  digest.' 

"Well,  he  stood  awhile  lookinjj  down  on  the 
carpet,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  quite  taken  up  a 
ciphering  in  his  head,  and  then  he  straightened 
himself  up,  and  he  put  his  hand  \\\)0\\  bis  heart,  just 
as  he  used  to  do  in  the  pul[)it  (he  looked  pretty  I 
tell  you),  and  slowly  lifting  his  hand  off  his  breast, 
he  said,  '  Mr.  Slick,  our  tree  of  liberty  was  a  beau- 
tiful tree  —  a  splendid  tree;  it  was  a  si^ht  to  look 
at ;  it  was  well  fenced  and  well  protected,  and  it 
grew  so  statelv  and  so  handsome,  that  strangers 
came  from  all  parts  of  the  <iiobe  to  see  it.  Thev  all 
allowed  it"  was  the  most  splendid  thing  in  the  world. 
Well,  the  mobs  have  broken  in  and  tore  down  their 
fences,  and  snapf)ed  off  the  branches,  a!id  scattered 
all  the  leaves  about,  and  it  looks  no  better  than  a 
gallows  tree.  I  am  afeared,'  saiil  be,  '  1  tremble  to 
think  en  it,  but  I  am  afeared  our  ways  wiU  no 
longer  oe  ways  of  ]ileasantness,  nor  our  paths,  paths 
of  peace ;   I  am,  indeed,   I    vow,  Mr.    Slick.'     He 


THE  PREACHER   THAT    WANDEUED,  ETC.     45 


ookcd  so  streaked  iind  so  chop-fiilleii,  tliat  I  felt 
kinder  sorry  for  him ;  1  actilly  thought  he'd  a  boo- 
hoo'd  rijiht  out. 

"  So,  to  turn  the  conversation,  says  I,  '  Professor, 
what  'ere  «;reat  map  is  that  I  seed  you  a  studyin* 
over  wiien  I  came  in?'  Says  he,  'It's  a  map  of 
Nova  Scotia.  That,'  says  he,  '  is  a  valuiii)le  prov- 
ince, a  real  clever  province  ;  we  hain't  <jjot  the  like 
on  it,  but  it's  most  phiijuily  in  our  way.'  *  Well,* 
says  r,  'send  for  Sam  Patch  '  (that  'ere  man  was  a 
great  diver,"  says  the  Clockmaker,  "  and  the  last 
dive  he  took  was  off  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  and  he 
was  never  heered  of  ag'in  till  t'other  day,  when 
Captain  Enoch  Wentworth,  of  the  Susy  Ann  whaler 
saw  him  in  the  South  Sea.  'Why,'  says  Captain 
Enoch  to  him,  '  why,  Sam,'  says  he,  '  how  on  airth 
did  you  z^t  here  ?  I  thouiiht  vou  was  drowned  at 
the  Canadian  lines.'  '  Why,'  says  he,  '  I  didn't  get 
on  airth  here  at  all,  but  I  came  right  slap  through  it. 
In  that  'ere  Niagara  dive,  I  went  so  everlasting 
deep,  I  thought  it  was  just  as  short  to  come  up 
*'other  side,  so  out  I  came  in  those  parts.  If  I 
don't  take  the  shine  off  the  Sea  Serpent,  when  I  get 
back  to  Boston,  then  my  name's  not  Sam  Patch.') 
*  Well,'  says  I,  '  Professor,  send  for  Sam  Patch,  the 
diver,  and  let  him  dive  down  and  stick  a  torpedo  in 
the  bottom  of  the  Province  and  blow  it  up;  or  if 
that  won't  do,  send  for  some  of  our  steam  tow-boats 
from  our  great  P^astern  cities,  and  tow  it  out  to  sea; 
you  know  there's  nothing  our  folks  can't  do,  when 
'hey  once  fairly  take  hold  on  a  thing  in  airnest.' 


;l 


III 


16 


TUE    CLOCKS! AKKR. 


t    )* 
51 


"  Well,  thiit  made  him  h\\v^\\  ;  ht3  sci'ined  to  for 
got  }il)()iit  tlie  iuitni('<j;s,  and  says  ho,  '  Tliiit's  a  l)right 
schoino,  l)nL  it  won't  cl(» :  wc;  shall  want  the;  Province 
some  day,  and  I  <«;noss  we'll  buy  it  of  Kinji  William  ; 
they  say  Ik;  is  ovor  hoad  and  oars  in  debt,  and  owes 
nine  hundrod  millions  of  pounds  starling  —  we'll 
buy  it,  as  wo  did  I'ioiida.  In  the  moan  timo  wo 
must  iiave  a  caiud  from  liay  Fundy  to  Bay  Varte, 
right  through  CumlxM'iand  Nock,  by  Shittyack,  for 
our  (isiiiuijf  vessels  to  go  to  Labradore.'  '  I  guess 
you  must  ax  leave  first,'  said  I.  '  That's  jist  what  I 
was  ciphering  at,' says  ho,  '  when  you  came  in.  I 
believe  we  won't  ax  them  at  all,  but  jist  fall  to  and 
do  it;  Ws  a  road  of  npedcpssi'ff/.  I  once;  hoard  Chief 
Justice  Marshall  ol'  liaititnorts  say,  "  If  the  people's 
hisjhwav  is  dan'rorous.  ii  man  mav  take  down  a 
fence  and  pass  through  thci  fields  as  a  way  of 
needcessiti/  ;"  and  wo  shall  do  it  on  that  principle, 
as  the  wav  round  bv  Isle  S:d)le  is  danoorous.  I 
Wonder  the  Nova  Scotians  don't  do  it  for  their  own 
convenience.'  Said  I,  '  It  wouUhi't  make  a  bad 
speculation  that.'  "The  criltors  don't  know  no  bet- 
ter,' said  ho.  '  Well,'  says  J,  '  the  St.  John's  folks, 
why  don't  they  ?  f«)r  they  are  pretty  cute  chaps, 
them.' 

'•'Tiev  remind  mo.' savs  the  Professor.  '  of  Jim 
Billings.  You  knew  Jim  liillings,  didn't  you,  Mr 
Slick:'  'O  yes,' said  I,  'J  knew  him.  Jt  was  he 
that  made  such  a  talk  by  shipping  blankets  to  the 
West  Indies.'     '  The  same.'  says  he.     '  Well,  I  werl 


THE   I'lillACUKU   THAT   WANUEliEb,  ETC.     47 


to  see  liini  the  otlier  (lav  at  Mrs.  Lecain's  boardino 
house,  and  says  1,  "  Uillio^s,  you  Imve  a  nice  loca- 
tion here."  '*  A  piai^iiy  slight  too  nice,"  said  he. 
''  Marm  Lecain  makes  such  an  etarnal  touse  about 
her  car|)(!ts,  that  I  have  to  ;j;o  aionjjr  that  everlastini; 
lonjjj  entry,  and  down  both  staircases,  to  the  street 
door  to  spit ;  and  it  keeps  all  the  ^^entlcnien  a  riin- 
iiinj^  witii  tiicir  months  full  all  day.  1  had  a  real 
bout  with  a  New  Yorker  this  mornin*;:^.  I  run  down 
to  the  street  door,  and  afore  I  seed  anybody  a 
comin<T,  I  let  oo,  and  I  vow  if  I  didn't  let  a  chap 
have  it  all  over  his  white  waistcoat.  Well,  he 
makes  a  m-ah  at  me,  and  I  shuts  the  door  riijht  to 
on  his  wrist,  and  hooks  the  door-chain  taut,  an(i 
leaves  him  there,  and  into  Mann  Lecain's  bedroom 
like  a  shot,  and  hides  behind  the  curtain.  Well,  he 
roared  like  a  bnll,  till  black  Lncretia,  one  of  the 
house  helps,  let  hinj  oo,  and  they  looked  into  all  the 
gentlemen's  rooms  and  found  nobody ;  so  I  got  out 
of  that  'ere  scrape.  So,  what  with  Marm  Lecain's 
carpets  in  the  house,  and  other  folks'  waistcoats  in 
the  street,  it's  too  nice  a  location  for  me,  I  jruess,  so 
I  shall  up  killock  and  off  to-morrow  to  the  Iree- 
mont." 

*' '  Now,'  says  the  Professor,  '  the  St.  John's  folks 
are  jist  like  Billings:  fifty  cents  would  have  bought 
him  a  spitbox,  and  saved  him  all  them  'ere  journeys 
to  the  street  door ;  and  a  canal  at  Bay  Varte  would 
save  the  St.  John's  folks  a  vovaije  all  round  Nova 
Scotia.     Whv,  thev  can't  <zei  at  their  own  backside 


I , 


iii 


ii 


M 


iS 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


settlenients,  without  a  voyage  most  as  long  as  one  to 
pjurope.  If  we  had  that  ^ere  neck  of  land  in  Cum,' 
berl(nid,  ived  hai^e  a  ship  canal  there^  and  a  town  at 
each  eend  of  it  as  hig  as  Portland.  You  may  talk 
of  Solomon,'  said  the  Professor,  '  but  if  Solomon  in 
all  his  glory  was  not  a'Tuyed  like  a  lily  of  the  field 
neither  was  he  in  all  his  wisdom  equal  in  knowledge 
to  a  real  free  American  citizen.'  '  Well,'  said  f, 
'  Prof<'Ssor,  we  are  a  most  enlightened  people,  that's 
sartain,  but  somehow  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  run 
down  King  Soh,;iion  neither;  perhaps  he  warn't 
quite  so  wise  as  Uncle  Sam,  but  then,'  said  1  (draw- 
ing close  to  the  Professor,  and  whispering  in  his 
ear,  for  fear  any  folks  in  the  bar-room  might  hear 
nie)  'but  then,'  said  I,  '  may  be  he  was  every  bit 
ami  orain  as  honest.'  Says  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  there 
are  some  folks  who  think  a  good  deal  and  say  but 
little,  and  they  are  wise  folks  ;  and  there  are  others 
ag'in,  who  blart  right  out  whatever  comes  upper- 
most, and  I  guess  they  are  pretty  considerable 
superfine  darned  fools.' 

"  And  with  that  he  turned  right  round,  and  sat 
down  to  his  map  and  never  said  another  word, 
'f'okiii  as  mud  as  y  hatter  the  whole  blessed  time." 


,r^ 


CHAPTER  IX. 


YANKEE    EATING     AND     HORSE    FEEDING. 

"  Did  you  ever  bear  tell  of  Abernethy,  a  British 
doctor?  "  said  the  Clockmaker. 

"  Frequently,"  said  I ;  "  he  was  an  eminent  man, 
and  had  a  most  extensive  practice." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  he  was  a  vulgar  critter  that,"  he 
replied  ;  "  he  treated  the  Hon'ble  Alden  Gobble, 
Secretary  to  our  Legation  at  London,  dreadful  bad 
once ;  and  I  guess  if  it  had  been  me  he  had  used 
that  way,  I'd  a  fixed  his  flint  for  him,  so  that  he'd 
think  twice  afore  he'd  fire  such  another  shot  as  that 
'ere  again.  I'd  a  made  him  make  tracks,  I  guess,  as 
quick  as  a  dog  does  a  hog  from  a  potato  field.  He'd 
a  i'ound  his  wav  out  of  the  hole  in  the  fence  a  plaguy 
sight  quicker  than  he  came  in,  I  reckon." 

"  His  manner,"  said  I,  "  was  certainly  rather  un- 
ceremonious at  times,  but  he  was  so  honest  and  so 
straightforward,  that  no  person  was,  I  believe,  ever 
seriously  offended  at  hin>.     It  was  his  way." 

'*  Then  his  way  was  so  plaguy  rough,"  continued 
ihe  Clockmaker,  "  that  he'd  been  the  better  if  it  had 
4 


Ik 
I 


il 


50 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


ir 


been  hammered  and  mauled  down  smoother.  I'd  a 
leveled  him  flat  as  a  floiiiulor." 

**  Prav  what  was  his  olleiise  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I>ad  enouj^h,  y(Ui  may  di'pend.  The  Tloii'ble 
Alden  Gobble  was  dyspeptic,  and  he  sulTered  great 
otieasiness  artor  eatin',  so  he  goes  to  Abernethy  for 
advice.  '  Wiiat's  the  matter  with  vou  ? '  said  the 
Doctor — jist  that  way,  without  even  passing  the 
time  o'  day  with  him  —  'what's  the  matter  with 
you?'  said  he.  'Why,'  says  Alden,  'I  presume  J 
have  the  dyspopsy.'  '  Ah  ! '  said  he,  '  I  see  ;  a  Yan- 
kee swaHowed  more  dollars  and  cents  than  he  can 
digest.'  '  I  am  an  American  citizen,'  savs  Alden, 
with  groat  dignity;  '  I  am  Secretary  to  our  Legation 
at  the  Court  of  St.  James.'  'The  devil  you  are,' 
said  Abernethy;  '  tlien  you  will  soon  get  rid  of  your 
dyspepsy.'  '  I  don't  see  that  'ere  inference,'  said 
Alden,  '  it  don't  follow  from  what  you  predicate  at  all ; 
t  ain't  a  natural  consequence,  I  guess,  that  a  man 
should  cease  to  be  ill,  because  he  is  called  by  the 
voice  of  a  free  and  enlightened  peo[)le  to  fill  an  im- 
portant office/  (Tlie  truth  is,  you  could  no  more 
trap  Alden  than  you  coiild  an  Indian.  lie  could 
see  other  folks'  trail,  and  made  none  himself:  he 
was  a  real  diplomatist,  and  I  believe  our  diploma- 
tists are  allowed  to  be  the  best  in  the  world.)  *  Hut 
I  tell  you  it  does  follow,'  said  the  Doctor  ;  '  for  in 
the  compi'uy  you'll  iiave  to  keep,  you'll  have  to  eat 
like  a  Christian.' 

*'  It   wi'.s  an  everlasting  pity  Alden    contradicted 


I 


YANKEE  EATING  AND  HORSE  FEEDING.     51 

him,  for  he  broke  out  like  one  ravin'  distracted  mad. 
I'll  be  d — d,'  said  lie,  '  if  ever  I  saw  a  Yankee 
that  didn't  bolt  his  tbod  whole  like  a  boa  constrictor. 
How  the  devil  can  yon  expect,  to  digest  food,  that 
you  neither  take  the  trouble  to  dissect,  nor  time  to 
insticate  ?  It's  no  wonder  you  lose  your  teeth,  for 
vou  never  use  them  ;  nor  your  digestion,  for  vou 
overload  it  ;  nor  your  saliva,  for  you  expend  it  on 
the  carpets,  instead  of  your  food.  It's  disgusting,  it's 
beastly.  You  Yankees  load  your  stomachs  as  a 
Devonshire  man  does  his  cart,  as  full  as  it  can  hold, 
and  fast  as  he  can  pitch  it  with  a  dung-fork,  and 
drive  off;  and  then  you  complain  that  such  a  load 
of  conjpost  is  too  heavy  for  you.  Dyspepsy.  eh  !  in- 
fernal liuzzlinjx,  vou  mean.  I'll  tell  vou  what.  IMr. 
Secretary  of  Legation,  take  half  the  time  to  eat  that 
you  do  to  drawl  out  your  words,  chew  your  food  half 
as  much  as  you  do  your  filthy  tobacco,  and  you'll  be 
well  in  a  month.' 

"  '  I  don't  understand  such  lanfjuan^e,*  said  Alden 
(for  he  was  fairly  riled  and  got  his  dander  up.  and 
when  he  shows  clear  grit,  he  looks  wicked  ugly,  I 
tell  you), 'I  don't  understand  such  language,  sir  :  I 
came  here  to  consult  vou  professionallv.  and  not  to 
be  ' — .  '  Don't  understand  ! '  said  the  Doctor,  '  why 
it's  plain  English  hut  here,  read  my  book  ! '  and  he 
phoved  a  book  into  his  hands  and  left  him  in  an  in- 
stant, standincf  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  If  the  Hon'ble  Alden  Gobble  had  gone  riirht 
»way  and  demanded  his  passport,  and  returned  home- 


i    li 


m 


•id. 


1.  i 


^  :  I! 


^    III 


.1;. 


S 


' 


^2  THE  CLOCKMAKER. 

mth  the  lefjation  in  one  of  our  first  class  frigates  (I 
ofuoss  tlio  Knfrlisli  would  as  soon  sco  pison  as  one 
0*  them  'ere  Serpents)  to  Wasliini^toii,  the  President 
and  tlie  people  would  have  sustaiiu'd  him  in  it,  I 
guess,  until  an  apology  was  olTered  for  tlu?  insult  to 
the  nation.  I  jj^uess  it  it  had  heen  me,"  said  Mr. 
Slick,  ''  I'd  a  headed  him  afore  he  slipt  out  o'  the 
door,  and  pinned  him  up  a^in  the  wall,  and  mak(^ 
him  bolt  his  words  agin,  as  quick  as  he  throw'd  'em 
up,  for  I  never  seed  an  EiiLilishman  that  didn't  cut 
his  words  as  short  as  he  does  his  horse's  tail,  close 
up  to  the  stump." 

"  It  certainly  was  very  coarse  and  vulijfar  lan- 
guajjje,  and  I  think."  said  I,  "  that  your  Secretary 
had  just  cause  to  b(;  offended  at  such  an  ungen- 
tlemanlike  attack,  although  he  showed  his  good  sense 
in  treating  it  with  the  contempt  it  deserved." 

"  It  was  plaguy  lucky  for  the  Doctor,  I  tell  you, 
that  he  cut  his  stick  as  he  did,  and  made  himself 
scarc6^  for  Alden  was  an  ugly  customer  ;  he'd  a  gi'n 
him  a  proper  scalding;  he'd  a  taken  the  bristles  off 
his  hide,  as  clean  as  the  skin  of  a  spring  shote  of  a 
pig  killed  at  Christmas." 

The  Clockmaker  was  evidentlv  excited  by  his  own 
story,  and  to  indemnify  himself  for  these  remarks  on 
»ns  coimtrvmen,  he  indulged  for  sometime  in  ridicul- 
mg  the  Xova  Scotlans. 

'■  Do  you  see  that  'ere  flock  of  colts?"  said  he,  as 
we  passed  one  of  those  beautiful  prairies  that  render 
the  valleys  of  Nova  Scotia  so  verdant  and  so  fertile 


YANKEE  EA  TING  AND  HORSE  FEEDING.     63 


*  well,  I  guess  they  keep  too  much  of  that  'ere  stock. 
I  heerd  au  Indian  one  day  ax  a  tavern-keeper  for 
Bonie  runi.  '  Why,  Joe  Spawdeeck,'  said  he,  '  I 
reckon  you  have  got  too  nuich  already.*  'Too 
much  of  anything,'  said  Joe,  '  is  not  good  ;  but  too 
much  rum  is  jist  enough.'  I  guess  these  Bluenoscs 
think  so  about  their  horses  ;  they  are  fairly  eat  up  by 
them,  out  of  house  and  home,  and  they  are  no  good 
neither.  They  bean't  good  saddle  horses,  and  they 
bean't  good  draft  beasts  ;  they  are  jist  neither  one 
thing  nor  t'other.  Tiiey  are  like  the  drink  of  our 
Connecticut  folks.  At  mowing  time  they  use  mo- 
lasses and  water,  —  nasty  stuff',  only  fit  to  catch  flies ; 
it  spiles  good  water  and  makes  bad  beer.  No  won- 
der the  folks  are  poor.  Look  at  them  'ere  great 
dykes  ;  well,  they  all  go  to  feed  horses;  and  look  at 
their  grain  fields  on  the  upland  ;  well,  they  are  all 
sowed  with  oats  to  feed  horses,  and  thev  buv  their 
bread  from  us  :  so  we  feed  the  asses,  and  they  feed 
the  horses.  If  I  had  them  critters  on  that  'ere 
marsh,  on  a  location  of  mine,  I'd  jist  take  my  rifle 
and  shoot  every  one  on  'em,  —  the  nasty,  yo-nccked, 
cat-hannned,  heavy-headed,  flat-eared,  crooked- 
shanked,  lonii-leir^ed,  narrow-chested,  fiot>d-f<>r  noth- 
in'  brutes  ;  they  ain't  worth  their  keep  one  winter. 
I  vow,  1  wish  one  of  these  Hluenoses,  with  his  go  to- 
•iieetin'  clothes  on,  coat-tails  pinned  up  behind  like 
a  leather  blind  of  a  sluiy,  an  old  spur  on  one  heel, 
and  pipe  stuck  through  his  hat-band,  mounted  on 
one  of  these  limber-timbered  critters,  that  moves  ita 


)       \ 


?1 


54 


THE   CLOCK  MAKER 


hind  legs  like  a  hen  scratchin'  gravel,  was  sot  down 
in  Broadway,  in  N(;w  York,  for  a  siglit.  Lord  !  1 
think  I  hear  the  We.it  Point  cadets  a  larfin'  at 
him.  '  Who  broiiiiht  tiiat  'ere  scarecrow  out  of 
str.iidin'  corn  and  stuck  him  here?'  '  I  guess  that 
'ere  citizen  came  from  away  down  Kast,  out  of  the 
\  )tcli  of  the  White  Mountains.'  '  Here  comes  the 
cholera  doctor,  from  Canada  —  not  from  Canada,  I 
nucss,  neither,  for  he  don't  look  as  if  he  had  ever 
been  among  tiie  rapids.'  If  they  wouldn't  poke  fun 
at  him,  it's  a  pity." 

"If  they'd  keep  less  horses,  and  more  sheep, 
they'd  have  food  and  clothing,  too,  instead  of  buy- 
ing both.  I  vow  I've  larfcd  afore  now  till  I  have 
fairly  wet  myself  a  cry  in',  to  see  one  of  these  folks 
catch  a  horse :  may  be  he  has  to  go  two  or  three 
miles  of  an  arrand.  Well,  down  he  goes  on  the 
dyke,  with  a  bridle  in  one  iiand,  and  an  old  tin  pan 
in  another,  full  of  oats,  to  catch  his  beast.  First  he 
goes  to  one  flock  of  horses,  and  then  to  another,  to 
see  if  he  can  find  his  own  critter.  At  last  he  gets 
sight  on  him,  and  goes  softly  up  to  him,  shakin'  of 
his  oats,  and  a  coaxin'  him,  and  jist  as  he  goes  to  put 
his  hand  upon  him,  away  he  starts,  all  head  and  tail, 
and  the  rest  with  him  ;  that  starts  another  flock,  and 
they  set  a  third  off,  and  at  last  every  troop  on  'em 
goes,  as  if  Old  Nick  was  arter  them,  till  they  amount 
to  two  or  three  hundred  in  a  drove.  Well,  he 
chases  them  clear  across  the  Tantramer  Marsli, 
leven  miles  good,  over  ditches,  creeks,  mire  holes 


i 


YANKEE  EATING  AND  HORSE  FEEDING.      55 


\ 


and  flajT  po!uls,  and  then  they  turn  and  take  a  fair 
chase  for  it  back  again,  seven  miles  more.  By  tliis 
time,  I  piesume,  thty  are  all  pretty  considerably  well 
tirod,  and  Blueuose,  he  goes  and  gets  up  all  the  men 
folks  in  the  neighborhood,  and  catches  his  beast, 
as  they  do  a  moose  arter  he  is  fairly  run  down  ;  so 
he  runs  fourteen  miles,  to  ride  two,  because  he  is  in 
a  tarnation  hurry.  It's  e'cnamost  equal  to  eutin' 
soup  with  a  fork,  when  you  are  short  of  time.  It 
puts  me  in  mind  of  catching  birds  by  sprinkling  salt 
on  their  tails  ;  it's  only  one  horse  a  man  car  ride 
out  of  half  a  dozen,  arter  all.  One  has  no  shoes, 
t'other  has  a  colt,  one  ain't  broke,  another  has  a 
sore  back,  while  a  fifth  is  so  etarnal  cunnin',  all  Cunn- 
berland  coiildn't  cat^h  him,  till  winter  drives  him  yp 
to  the  barn  for  food. 

"  Most  of  them  'ere  dyke  marshes  have  what  they 
call  '  honey  pots '  in  'em  ;  that  is,  a  deep  hole  all  full 
of  squash,  where  you  can't  find  no  bottom.  Well, 
every  now  and  then,  when  a  feller  goes  to  look  for 
his  horse,  he  sees  his  tail  a  stickin'  right  out  an 
eend,  from  one  of  these  honey  pots,  and  wavin'  like 
a  iiead  of  broom  corn  ;  and  sometimes  you  see  two 
or  three  trapped  there,  e'enamost  smothered,  ever- 
lastin'  tired,  half  swimmin',  half  wadin',  like  rats  in 
a  molasses  cask.  When  they  find  'em  in  that  'ere 
pickle,  they  go  and  get  ropes,  and  tie  'em  tight 
round  their  necks,  and  half  hang  'em  to  make  'em 
^oat,  and  then  haul  'em  out.  Awful  looking  critters 
,hey  be,  you  may  depend,  when  they  do  come  out ; 


^ti' 


J  i 


i 


U 


THE   CLOCKMAKEH. 


for  all  the  world  like  half  drowned  kittens  —  all 
slinkev  sliinev,  with  their  ureat  lonji  tails  ^hitid  up 
like  a  swab  of  oakum  di[)ped  in  tar.  If  they  don't 
look  foolish,  it's  a  pity !  Well,  they  have  to  nurse 
these  critters  all  winter,  witii  hot  mashes,  warm  cov- 
ering, and  what  not,  and  when  spring  comes,  they 
mostly  die,  and  if  they  don't,  they  are  never  iio 
good  arter.  T  w  h  w'  i  r,'l  my  heart  halt  uie 
horses  in  thj  count-  v* jv.  barreled  up  in  these  here 
honey  pots,  and  t.ien  <■-  uod  be  nt^ar  about  one  half 
too  many  left  for  profit.  Jisi  » ^ok  at  one  of  these 
barnyards  in  the  spring  —  half  a  dozen  half-starved 
colts,  with  their  hair  hioking  a  thousand  ways  for 
Sunday,  and  their  coats  hangin'  in  tatt(>rs,  and  half 
a  dozen  good  for>notiiin'  old  horses,  a  crowdiii'  out 
the  cows  and  sheep. 

"  Can  you  wonder  that  people  who  keep  such  an 
wiprojitable  stock,  come  out  of  the  small  eend  of  th$ 
horn  in  the  long  run  f  " 


V 
k 


)  I 


ll- 


\ 


jv^ 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    ROAD   TO    A    WOMAN'S    HEART. —  THE     BROKEN 

HEART. 

As  we  approached  the  inn  at  Amherst,  the  Cloc;- 
maker  grew  uneasy. 

"  It's  pretty  well  on  in  the  evening,  I  guess,"  raic! 
he,  "and  Mann  Pugwash  is  as  onsartain  in  er 
temper  as  a  mornin'  in  Aj^ril  ;  it's  all  sunshine  or  ail 
ch)uds  with  her,  and  if  she's  in  one  of  her  tantrums, 
she'll  stretch  out  her  neck  and  hiss,  like  a  "oose 
with  a  flock  of  goslins.  I  wonder  what  on  airth 
Puffwash  was  a  thinkin'  on,  when  he  signed  articles 
of  partnership  with  that  'ere  woman  ;  she's  n(jt  a 
bad-lookin'  piece  of  furniture  neither,  rnd  it's  a 
proper  pity  sich  a  clever  woman  should  carry  sich 
a  stiff'  upper  lip.  She  reminds  me  of  our  old  minis' 
ter  Joshua  Hopewell's  apple-trees. 

"The  old  minister  had  an  orchard  of  most  partic- 
ular good  fruit,  for  he  was  a  great  hand  at  buddin', 
graftin*,  and  what  not,  aiul  the  orchard  (it  was  on 
the  south  side  of  the  house)  stretched  right  up  to 
the  road.     Well,  there  were  some  tr'^es  hung  ovei 


V 


I .  -I 


:    ♦'I 


I! 


58 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


the  fence  ;  I  ruiver  seed  such  benrers  ;  the  apples 
hung  in  ropes,  —  for  all  the  world  like  strin<j;s  of 
onions,  —  and  the  fruit  was  beautiful.  Nobodv 
touched  the  minister's  apples,  and  when  other  folks 
lost  their'n,  from  the  bovs,  his'n  always  huni;  there 
like  bait  to  a  hook,  but  there  never  was  so  much  as 
a  nibble  at  *em.  So  I  said  to  him  one  day,'  Minis- 
ter,'  said  I,  '  how  on  airlh  do  you  manage  to  keep 
your  fruit  tiial's  so  exposed,  when  no  one  else  can't 
do  it  nohow?'  '  Why,' says  he,  *  they  are  dreadful 
pretty  fruit,  ain't  they  ? '  'I  j^uess,'  said  I,  '  there 
ain't  the  like  on  'em  in  all  Connecticut.'  '  Well,' 
says  he,  '  I'll  tell  you  the  secret,  but  you  needn't  let 
on  to  no  one  about  it.  That 'ere  row  next  the  fence, 
I  grafted  it  myself;  I  took  oreat  pains  to  get  the 
right  kind  ;  I  sent  clean  up  to  Uoxberry  and  away 
down  to  Scpiaw-neck  Creek  '  —  I  was  afeared  he  was 
a  goin'  to  give  me  day  and  date  for  every  graft,  be- 
ing a  terrible  long-windi'd  man  in  his  stories,  so 
says  I,  '  1  know  tiiat.  Minister,  but  how  do  you  pre- 
serve them  ?  '  '  Wiiv,  I  was  a  goin'  to  tell  you,'  said 
he,  '  when  you  stopped  me.  That  'ere  outward  row 
1  grafted  myself  with  the  choicest  kind  I  could  find, 
and  I  succeeded.  They  are  beautiful,  but  so  etar- 
nal  sour,  no  human  soul  can  eat  them.  Well,  the 
bovs  think  the  old  minister's  eraftin'  has  all  sue- 
ceeded  about  as  well  as  that  row,  and  they  sarch  iic 
farther.  They  snicker  at  my  graftin'.  and  I  laugh 
in  my  sleeve,  I  guess,  at  their  penetration.' 

"Now,    Harm    Pugwash    is   like    the    minister'i 


77//-;  ROAD  TO  A    WOMAN  S  HEART. 


59 


Rpj)]('s,  —  very  toniptin'  fruit  to  look  at,  but  desper- 
ate sour.  If  Pusjjwiisli  had  a  watery  mouth  when 
lie  married,  I  *;uess  it's  pretty  puckery  by  this  time. 
However,  if  she  *^()v.s  to  aet  ugly,  I'll  give  her  a  dose 
of  'soft  sawder,'  tluit  will  take  the  frown  out  of  her 
frontispieee,  and  make  her  dial-plate  as  siuooth  as 
a  lick  of  copal  varnish.  It's  a  pity  she's  such  a 
kickin'  devil,  too,  for  she  has  good  points :  good  eye 
—  good  foot — neat  pastern  —  fine  chest  — a  clean 
Bet  of  limbs,  and  carries  a  good  —  Hut  here  we 
are  ;  now  you'll  see  what '  soft  sawder'  will  do." 

When  we  entered  the  house,  the  traveller's  room 
was  all  in  darkness,  and  oii  opening  the  opposite 
door  into  the  sitting-room,  we  found  the  female  part 
of  the  family  extinguishing  the  fire  for  the  night. 
Mrs.  Puixwash  hid  a  broom  in  her  hand,  and  was  in 
the  act  (the  last  act  of  feuude  housewifery)  of  sweep- 
ing the  hearth.  The  strong  flickering  light  of  the 
lire,  as  it  fell  upon  her  tall  line  figure  and  beautiful 
face,  revealed  a  creature  worthy  of  the  Clockmaker's 
comments. 

"  Good  evening,  marm,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  how  do 
you  do,  and  how's  Mr.  Pugwash  ?  " 

"  He,"  said  she,  "  why  he's  been  abed  this  hour; 
you  don't  expect  to  disturb  him  this  time  of  night, 
I  hope  ?  " 

*'  O  no,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  '^  certainly  not ;  and  I 
am  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you,  but  we  got  detained 
*0!iger  than  we  expected;  I  am  sorry  that"  — 

"  So  am  I,"  said  she,  "  but  if  Mr.  Pugwash  wiU 


60 


THE   CLO  CKyfA KKR. 


,  1 


■■h 


keep  an  inn  wlirn  he  has  no  occasion  to,  his  family 
can't  cxpt'ct  no  rest." 

IIcic  tlu;  Olocknuikor.  spcinijj  the  storm  ijather- 
inij,  stooped  flown  suddenly,  and  staring  intently, 
held  out  his  hand  and  exclaimed,  "  Well,  if  that 
ain't  a  heaiitilul  child  !  come  here,  my  little  man. 
and  shake  hands  aloni^  with  me;  well,  I  declans  if 
that  'eni  little  leller  ain't  the  finest  child  I  ever 
seed  !  What,  not  ahiul  vet  ?  Ah,  vou  roijue,  where 
did  you  <;(!t  them  'ere  pretty  rosy  cheeks ;  stole  them 
frou]  mamma,  eh  ?  Well,  I  wish  my  old  mother 
could  see  that  child,  it  is  such  a  treat.  In  our 
country,"  said  he,  turning;  to  me,  "  the  children  are 
all  as  pale  as  chalk,  or  as  yaller  as  an  orange. 
Lord!  that  *ere  little  feller  would  be  a  show  in  our 
coutitry;  come  to  me,  my  man."  Here  the  "soft 
sawder "  begtm  to  operate.  jNIrs.  Pugwash  said  in 
a  milder  toni;  than  wo  had  yet  heard,  "  Go,  my  dear, 
to  the  'j^entleman  ;  go,  dear."  Mr.  Slick  kissed  him, 
asked  him  if  he  would  go  to  the  States  along  with 
him,  and  told  him  all  the  little  girls  there  would  fall 
In  love  with  him,  for  they  didn't  see  such  a  beautiful 
face  once  in  a  month  of  Sundays.  '•  HI  ick  eyes  — 
let  me  sec^  —  ah,  mannna's  eves  too,  and  black  hair 
also,  as  T  am  alive;  why,  you  are  mamma's  own  boy, 
—  the  veiv  ima<>e  of  mamma." 

"  Do  be  seated,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Pugwash. 
•*  Sally,  make  a  fire  in  the  next  room." 

'*  She  ought  to  be  proud  of  you,"  he  continued. 
'*Well,  if  1  live  to  return  here,  I  must  paint  youf 


•| 


TIIIC  ROAD   TO   A    \VO^tAN'S  HEART, 


61 


face,  and  li.ive  it  put  on  my  clocks,  and  our  folks  will 
buy  the  clocks  for  the  s:ike  of  the  face.  Did  vou 
ever  ^ce,"  said  he,  a^ain  addrcssini^  mo,  "•  such  u 
likeness  between  om;  human  and  anolher,  as  be- 
tween this  beautiful  little  boy  and  his  mother?" 

"  1  am  sure  yon  have  had  no  supper,"  said  Mrs. 
Pugwash  tome;  "yon  must  be  hungry,  and  weary 
too.     I  will  get  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  1  am  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble,"  said  I. 

*'  Not  the  least  trouble  in  the  world,"  she  replied, 
"on  the  contrary,  a  pleasure." 

We  were  then  shown  into  the  next  room,  where 
the  fire  was  now  blazing  up,  but  Mr.  Slick  protested 
he  could  not  proceed  without  the  little  boy,  and 
liuiiered  behind  me  to  ascertain  his  ajje,  and  con- 
eluded  by  asking  the  child  if  he  had  any  aunts  that 
looked  like  mannna. 

As  the  door  closed,  Mr.  Slick  said,  "  It's  a  pity 
she  don't  go  well  in  gear.  The  difficulty  with  those 
critters  is  to  get  them  to  start;  arter  that  there  is 
no  trouble  with  them  if  you  don't  check  'em  too 
short.  If  you  do,  they'll  slop  again,  run  back,  and 
kick  like  mad,  and  then  Old  Nick  himself  wouldn't 
start  'em.  Pugwash,  I  guess,  don't  understand  the 
natur'  of  the  critter ;  she'll  never  go  kind  in  harness 
\ir  him.  \Vi.  n  1  see  a  child*'  said  the  Clock 
maker,  "  /  alwin/s  feel  safe  ivt'th  these  women  folk , 
for  J  have  always  found  that  the  road  to  a  woman*s 
\eart  lies  through  her  child" 

"  You  seem,"  said  I,  "  to  understand  the  fenmle 


'if'; 


r» 


62 


THE  CL  0  CKMA  KER. 


heart  so  well,  I   make  no  doubt  you  are  a  general 
favorite  aiiionn  the  fair  sex." 

"  Any  man,"  he  replied,  "  that  understands  horses, 
has  a  pretty  considerable  fair  knowledge  of  women  ; 
for  they  are  jist  alike  in  temper,  and  require  the 
very  identical  same  treatment.  Encojirage  the 
timid  ones,  be  (jentle  and  steady  with  the  fractious.,  hut 
lather  the  svlhj  ones  like  blazes. 

•'  l*eople  talk  an  everlasting  sight  of  nonsense 
about  wine,  women,  and  horses.  I've  bougl:t  and 
Sold  'em  all,  I've  traded  in  all  of  them,  and  I  tell 
you,  there  ain't  one  in  a  thousand  that  knows  a 
grain  about  either  on  'em.  You  hear  folks  say,  O, 
such  a  man  is  an  ugly  graiiied  critter,  he'll  break 
his  wife's  heart ;  jist  as  if  a  wouian's  heart  was  as 
brittle  as  a  pipe  stalk.  The  female  heart,  as  far  as 
my  experience  goes,  is  just  like  a  new  India  rubber 
shoe;  you  may  null  and  pull  at  it,  till  it  stretches 
out  a  yard  long,  and  then  let  go,  and  it  will  fly  right 
back  tc  its  old  shape.  Their  hearts  are  made  of 
BtoiiL  leather,  I  tell  you  ;  there's  a  nlaouv  si«rht  of 
wear  in  'em. 

"  1  never  knowed  but  one  case  of  a  broken  heart, 
and  that  was  in  t'other  sex,  one  AVashington  Hanks. 
He  was  a  sneezer,  lie  was  tall  enough  to  spit  down 
on  the  heads  of  your  grciadiers,  and  near  about  high 
enough  to  wade  across  Charleslown  River,  and  as 
strong  as  a  tow-boat.  I  guess  he  was  somewhat  less 
thart  a  foot  longer  than  the  moral  law  and  catechisn* 
too.    He  was  a  perfect  pictur'  of  a  man  ;  vou  cr  Jdn't 


\ 


THE   no  AD    TO  A    WOMAN'S   HEART.       63 


^ 


fault  liini  in  no  particular;  he  was  so  just  a  made 
critter,  folks  used  to  run  to  the  winder  when  he 
passed,  and  say,  '  There  »;oes  Washinj^ton  Banks, 
bean't  he  lovely  ? '  T  do  believe  there  wasn't  a  <;al 
in  the  Lowell  factories  that  warn't  in  love  with  him. 
Sometimes,  at  interuiission,  on  Sabbath  days,  when 
they  all  came  out  together  (an  amazin'  hansum  sij^ht 
too,  near  about  a  whole  congregation  of  young  gHls\ 
Banks  used  to  say,  '  I  vow,  young  ladies,  I  wish  I 
had  five  hundred  arms  to  reciprocate  one  with  each 
of  you  ;  but  I  reckon  I  have  a  heart  big  enough  for 
you  all  ;  it's  a  whapper,  you  may  depend,  and  every 
mite  and  morsel  of  it  at  your  service.'  'Well,  how 
you  do  act,  Mr.  Banks,'  half  a  thousand  little  clip- 
per-clapper tongues  would  say.  all  at  the  same  time, 
and  their  dear  little  eyes  sparklin',  like  so  many 
stars  twinklin'  of  a  frosty  night. 

'"  Well,  when  I  last  seed  him,  he  was  all  skin  and 
bone,  like  a  horse  turned  out  to  die.  He  was  teeto- 
tally  defleshed,  a  mere  wulkin'  skeleton.  '  I  am 
dreadful  sorry,'  says  I,  '  to  see  you,  15anks,  lookin' 
so  peecked  ;  why,  you  look  like  a  sick  turkey  hen, 
all  legs  ;  what  on  airth  ails  you?'  '  I  am  dyin','says 
he,  '  of  a  broken  heart.'  '  What,'  says  I,  '  have  the 
gals  been  jiltin'  you  ?'  'No,  no,'  savs  he,  '  I  bean't 
«»uch  a  fool  as  that  neither.'  '  Well,'  says  I,  '  have 
you  made  a  bad  speculation  ? '  '  No,'  says  he,  shakin' 
his  head, '  I  hope  I  have  too  much  clear  grit  in  me 
to  take  on  so  bad  for  that.'  *  What  under  the  sun 
IS  it,  then  ? '   '  Why,'  says  he,  '  I  made  a  bet  the  fore 


'     .*; 


1. 1 

■i    • 

I.    \       ' 


\, 


pi 


TnE   CLOCKMAKER. 


part  of  siiiMiiiei'  with  Leftenant  Oby  Kiiowles,  that 
I  could  blioiilder  tlie  best  bower  of  the  Coistitution 
fri«ijate.  1  won  iny  bet,  but  tho  anchor  was  so 
eturnal  heavy  it  brolce  n»y  hea^^,'  Sure  enough,  he 
did  die  that  very  fall ;  and  he  was  the  only  instance 
I  ever  heerd  tell  of  a  broken  heart." 


i  I 


CHAPTER  XI. 


CUMBERLAND    OYSTERS    PRODUCE    MELANCHOLY 

FOREBODINGS. 

The  soft  sawder  of  the  Clockmaker  had  operated 
effectually  on  the  beauty  of  Amherst,  our  lovely 
hostess  of  Pugwash's  inn  :  indeed,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  with  Mr.  Slick,  that  '•  The  road  to  a  woman's 
heart  lies  through  her  child,"  from  the  effect  pror- 
duced  upon  her  by  the  praisea  bestowed  on  her  in- 
fam  boy. 

I  was  musing  on  this  feminine  susceptibility  to 
flattery,  when  tl  e  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Pug  wash 
entered,  dressed  in  her  sweetest  smiles  and  her  besr 
cap,  an  auxiliary  by  no  means  required  by  hei 
charms,  which,  like  an  Italian  sky,  when  unclouded, 
are  unrivaled  in  splendor.  Approaching  me,  she 
said,  with  an  irresistible  smile,  "  Would  you  like, 
Mr. "  —  Here  there  was  a  pause,  a  hiatus,  evi- 
dently intended  for  me  to  fill  up  with  my  name ;  but 
that  no  person  kr»ows,  nor  do  I  intend  they  shall ; 
at  Medley's  Hotel,  in  Halifax,  I  was  known  as  the 
Stranger  in   No.   1.     The  attention  that   incognito 


* 


56 


TnE   CLOCKMAKElt 


procured  for  me,  the  importiince  it  gave  me  in  thfl 
eyes  of  the  master  of  the  house,  its  h)clgers  and 
servants,  is  indescribable.  It  is  only  great  people 
who  travel  inco<i.  State  travelling  is  inconvenient 
and  slow  ;  the  constant  weight  of  form  and  etiquette 
oppresses  at  once  the  strength  and  the  spirits.  It 
is  pleasant  to  travel  unobserved,  to  stand  at  ease,  or 
exchange  the  full  suit  for  the  undress  coat  and 
fatiiiue  jacket.  Wherever,  too,  there  is  mvsterv 
there  is  importance;  there  is  no  knowing  for  whom 
I  may  be  mistaken  ;  but  let  me  once  give  in} 
humble  cognomen  and  occupation,  and  I  sink  im- 
mediately to  n)y  own  level,  to  a  plebeian  slation,  and 
a  vulgar  name  ;  not  even  my  beautiful  hostess,  nor 
r^y  inquisitive  friend,  the  Clockmaker,  who  calls  me 
*'  'Squire,"  shall  extract  that  secret !  "  Would  you 
like,  Mr."—  ^ 

"  Indeed,  I  would,"  said  I,  "  ]Mrs.  Pug  wash  ;  pray 
be  seated,  and  tell  me  what  it  is." 

'•Wculd  you  like  a  dish  of  superior  Shittyacks 
for  supj)er  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  would,"  said  I,  again  laughing:  "but 
pray  tell  me  what  it  is?" 

"  Laws  me  !  "  said  she  with  a  stare,  "  where  have 
you  been  all  your  days,  that  you  never  heard  of  our 
Shittyack  oys^ters?  I  thought  everybody  had  heerd 
of  them." 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  I,  "  but  I  imderstood  at  Hal- 
ifax, that  the  only  oysters  in  this  part  of  the  world 
^inc''  io'\x\(\  on  the  slvores  of  Prince  Edward  Isl- 
and." 


Vi 

ge 
un 
bh 
no 


CUMBERLAND  OYSTERS. 


67 


•*  0 !  dear,  no,"  said  our  hostess,  "  they  are  found 
nil  along  the  coast  from  Shittyack,  through  Bay  of 
Varies,  away  to  Kanisliag.  The  hitter  we  seldom 
get,  thotjgh  the  best ;  there  is  no  regular  C(  nvey- 
ance,  and  when  they  do  come,  they  are  generally 
bheiled  and  in  ke<js,  and  never  in  ifood  order.  I  have 
not  had  a  real  good  Ranishag  in  my  house  these 
Iwo  years,  since  Governor  Maitland  was  here;  he 
was  amazin«i  fond  of  them,  and  Lawyer  Talkemdeaf 
sent  his  carriage  there  on  purpose  to  procure  them 
fresh  for  him.  Now  we  can't  set  them,  but  we  have 
the  Shittyacks  in  perfection  ;  say  the  word,  and  they 
shall  be  served  up  iuunediately." 

A  good  dish  and  a;  unexpected  dish  is  most 
acceptable,  and  certainl}  my  American  friend  and 
myself  did  ample  justice  lo  the  oysters,  which,  if 
they  have  not  so  classical  a  name,  have  (juite  as 
good  a  flavor  as  their  far-famed  brethren  of  Milton, 
Mr.  Slick  ate  so  heartilv  that  when  he  resumed  his 
conversation,  he  indulged  iii  the  most  niclancholy 
forebodings. 

"  Did  you  see  that  'ere  nigger,"  said  he,  "  thrl 
removed  the  oyster  shells  ?  well  he's  one  of  oi  " 
Chesapickers,  one  of  General  Cuffy's  slaves.  I  w  i 
Admiral  Cockburu  had  a  taken  them  all  off  our 
hands  at  the  same  rate.  We  made  a  pretty  l  ^d 
sale  of  them  'ere  black  cattle.  1  guess,  to  th(  i  it 
(sh  ;  I  wish  we  were  well  rid  of 'em  all.  The  ]>iacks 
ttud  the  Whites  in  the  States  show  their  teeth  and 
a»*arl ;  they  are  jist  ready  to  fall  to.     The  Protest* 


38 


THE  CLOCKMAKEIl 


ants  aiul  Ciitholics  bo«:in  to  Uiv  buck  their  ears,  and 
turn  tail  for  kicUin.'  Tlio  Abolitionists  and  Planters 
r.re  at  it  like;  two  bulls  in  a  |)astur'.  Mob-law  and 
Lvncb-law  are  workinii  like  veast  in  a  barrel,  and 
frotbiiin  at  the  bun^-bole.  Nullification  and  Tariff 
an?  like  a  cb  >.rcoal  pit,  all  covered  up,  but  buinin<^ 
inside,  and  sending  out  smoke  at  cvciy  crack,  enonj^b 
to  stifie  a  horse.  Cieneral  Government  and  State 
Government  every  now  and  then  s(|uare  orf  nnd 
spar,  and  the  first  blow  giv(Mi  will  bring  a  genuine 
set-to.  Surplus  Revenue  is  anoth(;r  bone  of  con- 
tention ;  like  a  shin  of  beef  thrown  among  a  pack  of 
doiis,  it  will  set  the  whole  on  'em  bv  the  ears. 

*'  You  have  heerd  tell  of  cotton  rags  dipped  in 
tur|)entin(;,  haven't  you,  how  they  produce  combus- 
tion ?  Well.  I  guess  we  have  the  elements  of  s[)on- 
taneous  combustion  among  us  in  abundance  ;  when 
it  does  break  out,  if  you  don't  see  an  eruption  of  hu- 
man gore  worse  than  Ktna  lava,  then  I'm  mistaken. 
There'll  be  the  very  devil  to  pay,  that's  a  f\ict.  I 
exj)ect  the  blacks  will  butcher  the  Southern  whites, 
and  the  Northerners  will  have  to  turn  out  and 
butcher  them  again  ;  and  all  this  shoot,  hang,  cut. 
stab,  and  burn  business  will  sweeten  our  folks'  tem- 
per, as  raw  meat  does  that  of  a  dog ;  it  fairly  makes 
me  sick  to  think  'Vi  it.  'J'he  explosion  may  clear 
the  air  again,  and  all  be  tranquil  once  more,  but  it's 
an  even  chance  if  it  don't  leave  us  the  three  steam- 
bop.l  options,  —  to  be  blown  sky-high,  to  be  scalded 
to  death,  or  drowned." 


CUMBERLAND   OYSTERS. 


69 


**  If  this  sad  picture  you  h:ive  drawn  bo  indeed 
true  to  nature,  how  does  your  country."  said  I,  "ap- 
pear so  attrai'tive  as  to  draw  to  it  so  hirge  a  portion 
of  our  population  ?" 

'•It  ain't  its  attraction,"  said  the  Clockinaker; 
"  it's  nothin'  but  its  power  of"  suction  ;  it  is  a  ijjreat 
wliirlpool  —  a  ^reat  vortex:  it  drains  all  the  straw 
and  chips,  and  floating  slicks,  drill-wood,  and  trash 
into  it.  The  small  crafts  are  sucked  in,  and  whirl 
round  and  round  like  a  squirrel  in  the  ca<^e  — 
they'll  never  come  out.  Hiimer  ones  pass  throui-h 
at  certain  times  of  tide,  and  can  come  in  and  out 
with  <>()od  pilotage,  as  they  do  at  Ilell  Gate  up  the 
Sound." 

"  You  astonish  me,"  said  I,  ''  bevond  measure ; 
both  your  previous  conversation  with  me  ;iiid  the 
concurrent  testimony  of  all  my  friends  \\l-^  have 
visited  the  States,  jrivc;  a  different  view  of  it." 

*'  Fonr  fn'en.f/s  !  "  said  the  Clockmaker,  with  such 
a  tone  of  ineffable  contempt  that  I  felt  a  stroni;;  in- 
clination to  knock  him  down  for  his  insolence, — 
*'  your  friends  !  Knsi^iis  and  leftenants,  I  guess, 
from  the  Hriti^h  marchin'  regiments  in  the  Colonies, 
that  run  over  five  thousand  mil(!s  of  country  in  five 
weeks,  on  leave  of  absence,  and  then  return,  lookin'  as 
wise  as  the  monkey  that  had  seen  the  world.  When 
hev  "et  back  thev  are  so  chock  full  of  knowledge 
rtf  the  Yaidvees  that  it  runs  over  of  itself;  like  a 
hogshead  of  molasses  rolled  about  in  hot  weather,  a 
»<^hite  froth  and  scum  bubbles  out  of  the  bung,  — 


.'-  1 


JO 


I  III':  CL  0  t'KMA  Ki:n. 


wishy-wasljy  tmsh  they  oiiil  tours,  skelchos.  travels, 
letters,  and  \vli;it  not;  vapid  slul!',  jist  sweet  enough 
to  catcli  flies,  eoekroaelics,  and  halt'-lledm'd  <j;iils. 
It  |)uts  ine  in  mind  of  my  I'^rench.  I  larnt  Freneli 
at  nii;ht  school,  one  winter,  of  our  miidster,  .loshiia 
Hopewell  (he  was  the  most  larned  man  of  the  a^e, 
for  he  tiiu'iht  iiimself  e'enamost  every  lanmiaiie  in 
Kurope) ;  well,  next  sprint;,  when  I  went  to  IJoston, 
I  met  :i  Frenchman,  and  I  heoan  to  jabher  away 
French  to  him  :  '  Polly  woes  a  frenc'i  shay,'  says  I. 
*  I  don't  understand  Vaidvee  vet,*  savs  he.  *  You 
don't  unc'erstand  ? '  says  [,  'why,  it's  French.  I 
guess  you  didn't  expect  to  hear  such  good  French, 
did  vou,  awiv  down  Ivist  here  ?  but  we  speak  it  real 
well,  and  it's  giMU'rally  allowed  we  sjieai-  Fnglish, 
too,  better  than  the  IJritish.'  '  O,'  savs  he,  '  vou  one 
\ery  droll  Yankee;  dat  very  good  joke,  sare :  you 
talk  Indian,  and  call  it  French.'  •■  IJut,'  says  I, 
'Mister  .Mountshear,  it  is  French,  I  vow;  real  mer- 
chantable, vithout  wainv  ediie  or  shakes  —  all  clear 
stuff;  it  will  pass  survey  in  any  market  ;  it's  ready 
stuck  and  seasoned.'  '  O,  very  like,'  says  he,  bow- 
in'  as  polite  as  a  black  waiter  at  New  Ovleens,  '  very 
like,  only  1  never  lieerd  it  afore ;  O,  very  good 
French  dat  —  clear  stuff,  no  doubt,  but  I  no  under- 
stand ;  it'>  all  mv  fault,  1  dare  sav,  sare.* 

"  Thinks  1  to  mvself,  a  nod  is  as  i^ood  as  a  wink 
to  a  blind  horse.  I  see  how  the  cat  jumps :  minis- 
ter knows  so  many  languages  he  hain't  been  partic- 
ular enough  to  keep  'em  in  separate    parcels,    and 


y 


CIJMBKIUA  NI)  O  YS TERS. 


71 


mark  'em  on  the  l)acU,  aiul  t-lioy'vc  j^ot  mixed  ;  and 
Bure  enouijfh,  I  foi.>i(l  my  I'^hmu'Ii  was  so  overrun 
witli  otlier  sorts,  that  it  was  hcltcr  to  lose  the  wiiole 
crop  than  ^o  to  wetnUn',  for  as  fast  as  I  pulh'd  uj) 
anv  stran<xe  seedlin'  it  would  i-row  riiiiit  up  a<4'in  as 
(piiek  as  wink,  if  tliere  was  the  hv.isi  hit  of  root  in 
the  world  left  in  the  ground ;  so  I  h^ft  it  all  to  rot 
oil  tiie  field. 

"There  is  no  way  so  jjjood  to  larn  French  as  to 
live  amouL;  'em,  and  //*  you  W(tnt  to  undvrstdnd  usj 
you  must  live  nmonff  us,  too  ;  your  Halls,  Ilamiltons, 
and  l)e  Houses,  and  such  crilters,  what  can  they 
know  of  us?  Can  a  chap  catch  a  likeness  flying 
alontr  the  railroad?  can  he  even  see  the  ftiturs? 
Old  Admiral  Auson  once  ax(!d  one  of  our  folks  afore 
our  glorious  Revolution  (if  the  Hiitish  had  a  known 
us  a  little  <»rain  better  at  that  time,  thev  woulcln  t 
have  got  whipped  like  a  sack  as  they  did  then) 
where  he  came  from  ?  '  From  the  Chesapeake,* 
said  he.  'Ave,  ave,'  said  the  Admiral,  'from  the 
West  Indies.'  'I  guess,'  said  the  Southerner,  '  you 
may  have  been  clean  round  the  world,  Admiral, 
but  you  have  been  plaguy  little  in  it,  not  to  know 
better  nor  that.' 

"  I  shot  a  wild  goose  at  Hiver  Philip  last  year, 
with  the  rice  of  Vargiuny  fresh  in  his  crop  ;  he  nuist 
bave  cracked  on  near  about  as  fast  as  them  otb.er 
geese,  the  liritish  travellers.  Which  knowed  the 
most  of  the  country  they  passed  over,  do  you  sup- 
pose ?     I  guess  it  was  much  of  a  muchness  —  near 


72 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


about  six  of  oru?,  and  a  half  dozen  of  t'other;  two 
eyes  ain't  much  better  tlian  one,  if  tliey  are  both 
blind. 

"  No,  if  yon  want  to  i<now  all  ahont  us  and  the 
lilnenoses  (a  pretty  considerable  share  of  Yankee 
blood  in  th(Mn  too.  I  tell  von  :  th(;  old  stock  conies 
from  New  England,  and  the  breed  is  tolerable  pure 
yet,  near  about  (»ne  half  apple  sarce,  and  t'other  half 
ujolasses,  all  exce|>t  to  the  East'ard,  where  there  is 
a  cross  of  the  vScotch)  jist  ax  me,  and  I'll  tell  you 
candidly.  I'm  not  one  of  them  that  can't  see  no 
good  points  in  my  neii;hbor's  critter,  and  no  bad 
ones  in  my  own  ;  I've  stien  too  much  of  the  world 
for  that,  I  guess.  Indeed,  in  a  i;eneral  way,  1  praise 
other  IblUs'  beasts,  and  keep  dark  about  my  own. 
Says  I,  when  I  meet  Bluenose  mounted,  •  That's  a 
real  smtu't  horse  ol  your'n  ;  [)Ut  him  out,  1  guess  he'll 
trot  like  mad.'  "Well,  he  lets  him  have  the  spur,  and 
the  critter  does  his  best,  and  then  I  pass  him  like  a 
streak  of  lightning  with  mine.  The  feller  looks  all 
taken  aback  at  that.  '  VVliy,'  says  he,  •  that's  a  real 
clipper  of  your'n,  I  vow.'  '  Middlin','  says  I  (quite 
cool,  as  il"  I  had  heard  that  'ere  same  thing  a  thou- 
sand times),  'he's  good  enough  for  me,  jist  a  fair 
trotter,  .md  nothin'  to  brag  of.'  That  goes  near  about 
as  far  iir'in  in  a  general  way,  as  a  crackin'  and  a 
boastin'  does.  Never  tell  folks  you  can  go  ahead  on 
'em.  but  do  it ;  it  spares  a  great  deal  of  talk,  and 
helps  them  to  save  their  breath  to  cool  their  broth. 

**  No,  if  you  want  to  know  the  ins  and  the  outs  of 


CUMDEliLANU  OYSTERS, 


78 


rhe  Yankees — I've  wintered  tlieni  and  summered 
thetn  ;  I  know  all  tliclr  points,  shape,  make,  and 
breed  ;  I've  tried  'cm  alongside  of  other  folks,  and  I 
know  where  they  fall  short,  wiiere  they  maU'  'cm, 
and  where  they  have  the  advantaije,  about  as  wt^il 
as  some  who  think  they  know  a  plaguy  sight  more. 
It  ain't  them  that  stare  the  most,  that  si-e  the  best 
always,  I  jiiiess.  Our  folks  have  their  faults,  and  I 
know  them  (I  warn't  born  blind,  I  reckon),  but  your 
friends,  the  tour  writers,  are  a  licLle  grain  too  haril 
on  us.  Our  old  nigger  wenrh  hud  several  dirty, 
ugly  lookin'  children,  and  was  proper  cross  to  'em. 
Mother  used  to  say,  '  Juno,  it's  better  never  to  wipe  a 
child's  nose  at  allj  I  guess,  than  to  wring  it  off^  *' 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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Cri AFTER   XII. 


THE    AMERICAN    EAGLE. 


I-  V 


"JiST  look  out  of  the  door,"  said  the  Clockmaker 
"  and  see  what  a  beautiful  night  it  is,  how  calm,  how 
Btill,  how  clear  it  is  ;  bcan't  it  lovely?  I  like  to  look 
up  at  them  'ere  stars,  wheu  I  am  away  from  home ; 
they  put  me  in  mind  of  our  natiotial  flag,  and  it  is 
generally  allowed  to  be  the  first  flag  in  the  univarse 
now.     The  British  can  whip  all  the  world,  and  we 
can  whip  the  British,     it's  near  about  the  pretties 
sight  I   know  of,  is  one    of  our  first-class  frigates 
manned  with  our  free  and  enlightened  citizens,  all 
ready  for  sea  ;  it  is  like  the  great  American  Eagle, 
on  its  perch,  balancing  itself  for  a  start  on  the  broad 
expanse  of  blue  sky,  afeared  of  nothin'  of  its  kind, 
and  president  of  all  it  surveys.     It  was  a  good  em- 
blem that  we  chose,  warn't  it  ?  " 

There  was  no  evading  so  direct,  and  at  the  same 
time  so  conceited  an  appeal  as  this.  *•  Certainly," 
said  I,  "  the  emblem  was  well  chosen.  I  was  par- 
ticular v  struck  with  it  on  observiuii  the  device  on 
your  naval  buttons  during  the  last  war  —  an  eaj^le 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 


75 


with  an  anchor  in  its  claws.  That  was  a  natural 
dea,  taken  from  an  ordinary  occurrence :  a  hird 
purloinin*^  the  anchor  of  a  frigate  —  an  article  so 
useful  and  necessary  for  the  food  of  its  young.  It 
was  well  chosen,  and  exhibited  great  taste  and  judg- 
ment in  the  artist.  The  emblem  is  more  appropri- 
ate  than  you  are  aware  of:  boasting  of  what  you  can 
not  }>erf()rm  ;  grasping  at  w'hat  you  cannot  attain  ; 
an  emblem  of  arrogance  and  weakness;  of  ill- 
directed  ambition  and  vulgar  pretension." 

"  It's  a  common  phrase,"  said  he  with  great  com- 
posure, "  among  seamen,  to  say  '  Damn  your  buttons,' 
and  I  guess  it's  natural  for  you  to  say  so  of  the 
buttons  of  our  navals  ;  I  guess  you  have  a  right  to 
that  'ere  oath.  It's  a  sore  subject,  that,  I  reckon, 
and  I  believe  1  hadn't  ought  to  have  spoken  of  it  to 
you  at  all.  Brag  is  a  good  dog,  but  Holdfast  is  a 
better  one." 

He  was  evidently  annoyed,  and  with  his  usual  dex- 
terity gave  vent  to  his  feelings  by  a  sally  upon  the 
Hluenoses,  who,  he  says,  are  a  cross  of  English  and 
Yankee,  and  therefore  first  cousins  to  us  both.  "  Per- 
haps," said  he,  '•  that  'ere  Eagle  might  with  more 
propriety  have  been  taken  off  as  perched  on  an 
anchor,  instead  of  holding  it  in  his  claws,  and  I  think 
it  would  have  been  more  nateral ;  but  I  suppose  it 
was  some  stupid  foreign  artist  that  made  that  'ere 
blunder  —  I  never  seed  one  vet  that  was  equal  to 
our'n.  If  that  Eagle  is  represented  as  trying  what 
ae  can't  do,  it's  an  honorable  ambition  arter  all ;  bu< 


?l 


iv; 


!!■; 


•I' 


n 


-  '•.? 


It 


I 


76 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


these  Bliienoses  won't  try  what  they  can  do.  They 
put  me  in  mind  of  a  great  bii^  hulk  of  a  horse  in  a 
cart,  that  won't  put  his  shoulder  to  the  collar  at  all 
for  all  the  lambastiu'  in  the  world,  but  turns  his 
head  round  and  looks  at  you,  as  much  as  to  say, 
'  What  an  everlastin'  heavy  thing  an  empty  cart  is, 
isn't  it  ? '  An  Owl  should  be  their  emblem,  and  the 
motto,  "  He  sleeps  all  the  dnf/s  of  his  life.'  The  whole 
country  is  like  this  night ;  beautiful  to  k)ok  at,  bu*: 
silent  as  the  grave —  still  as  death,  asleep,  becalmed. 
"  If  the  sea  was  always  calm,"  said  he,  "  it  would 
pison  the  univarse  ;  no  soul  could  breathe  the  air,  it 
would  be  so  uncommon  bad.  Stagnant  water  is 
always  oupleasant,  but  salt  water  when  it  gets  tainted 
beats  all  natur' ;  motion  keeps  it  sweet  and  whole- 
some, and  that  our  minister  used  to  say  is  one  of  the 
*  wonders  of  the  great  deep.'  This  province  is  stag- 
nant;  it  ain't  deep  like  still  water  neither,  for  it's 
shaller  enough,  gracious  knows,  but  it  is  motionless, 
noiseless,  lifeless.  If  vou  have  ever  been  to  sea  in 
a  calm,  you'd  know  what  a  plaguy  tiresome  thing  it 
is  for  a  man  that's  in  a  hurry.  An  everlastin' 
flappin'  of  the  sails,  and  a  creakin'  of  the  booms,  and 
an  onsteady  pitchiii'  of  the  ship,  and  folks  lyin'  about 
dozin'  aw.iy  their  time,  and  the  sea  a  heavin'  a  long 
heavy  swell,  like  the  breathin'  of  the  chist  of  some 
Ijreat  monster  asleep.  A  passenger  wonders  the 
sailors  are  so  plaguy  easy  about  it,  and  he  goes  a 
lookin'  out  east,  and  a  spyin'  out  west,  to  see  if 
there's  any  chance  of  a  breeze,  and  says  to  himself 


IS, 


j  !     '11 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 


77 


Well,  if  this  ain't  dull  music,  it's  a  pity.*  Then  how 
streaked  he  feels  when  he  sees  a  steamboat  a  clippin' 
it  by  him  like  mad,  and  the  folks  on  board  pokin' 
fun  at  him,  and  askin'  him  if  he  has  any  word  to 
send  to  home.  '  Well,'  he  says,  '  if  iiny  soul  ever 
catches  me  on  board  a  sail  vessel  airain,  when  I  can 
i^o  by  steam,  I'll  give  him  leave  to  tell  me  of  it,  that's 
a  fact.' 

''  That's  jiartly  the  case  here  They  are  becalmed, 
and  they  see  us  going  ahead  on  them,  till  we  are 
e'enamost  ou^  of  sight ;  yet  they  hain't  got  a  steam- 
boat, and  they  hain't  got  a  railroad;  indeed,  I  doubt 
if  one  half  on  'em  ever  seed  or  heerd  tell  of  one  or 
t'other  of  them.  I  never  seed  any  folks  like  'em 
except  the  Indians,  and  they  won't  even  so  much  as 
look ;  they  haven't  the  least  morsel  of  curiosiry  in 
the  world ;  from  which  one  of  our  Unitarian  preach- 
ers (they  are  drepdful  hands  at  doiibtin\  them,  —  I 
don't  doubt  but  some  day  or  another,  they  will  doubt 
whether  everything  ain't  a  doubt),  in  a  very  learned 
work,  doubts  whether  they  were  ever  descended 
from  Yj\q  at  all.  Old  marm  Eve/s  children,  he  says, 
are  all  lost,  it  is  said,  in  conseouence  of  too  much 
curiosity,  while  these  co[)per-(,o]ored  folks  are  lost 
from  havin'  too  little.  How  can  they  be  the  same  ? 
Thinks  I,  that  may  be  logic,  old  Dubersome,  but  it 
ain't  sense  :  don't  extremes  meet?  Now,  these  Blue- 
uoses  have  no  motion  in  'em,  no  enterprise,  no 
spirit,  and  if  any  critter  shjws  any  symptoms  of  ac- 
vivity,  they  say   he  is  a  man  of  no  judgment,  he's 


ri' 


^^^  '      II 


m 


f. 


I  .i        i\ 


f  ' 


THE   CL  0  CKMA  KER. 


Bpeci'Iative,  he's  a  sclienicr,  in  short,  lie's  mad. 
They  vegetate  like  a  lettuce  plant  in  a  snrce  garden, 
—  they  grow  tall  and  spindlin',  run  to  seed  right  off, 
grow  as  bitter  as  gall,  and  die. 

"  A  cal  once  caine  to  our  minister  to  hire  as  a 
house  help  ;  says  she,  '  Minister,  I  snpjxjse  you  don't 
want  a  youn<r  ladv  to  do  chand)er  business  and 
breed  worms,  do  you?  —  for  I've  half  a  mind  to 
take  a  spell  at  liviti'  out.'  She  meant,"  said  the 
Clockinaker,  '"  housework  and    rearin<>-    silk-worms. 

*  My  pretty  maiden,'  says  he,  a  pattin'  her  on  the 
cheek  (for  I've  often  observed  old  men  always  talk 
kinder  pleasant  to  women),  *  my  pretty  maiden, 
where  was  you  brought  up?'  *  Why,' says  she*  I 
guess  I  warn't  brought  at  all,  1  growed  u[).'  'Under 
what  platform,' sa}s  he  (for  he  was  very  particular 
that  all  his  house  helps   should   go  to  his   meetin'), 

*  under  what  church  platform  ?  '  '  Church  platform  ! ' 
says  she,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  like  a  young  colt 
that  got  a  check  of  the  curb,  'I  guess  I  warn't  raised 
under  a  platform  at  all,  but  in  as  good  a  house  as 
your'n,  grand  as  you  be.'  '  You  said  well,'  said  the 
old  minister,  quite  shocked,  '  when  you  said  you 
growed  up,  dear,  for  you  have  grown  up  in  great 
ignorance.'  '  Then  I  guess  you  had  better  get  a 
lady  that  knows  more  than  me,'  says  she,  '  that's  flat. 
1  reckon  1  am  every  bit  and  grain  as  good  as  you 
be.  If  I  don't  understand  a  bum-byx  (silk-worm) 
both  feedin',  breedin',  and  rearin'  then  I  want  tc 
know  who  does,  that's  all  ;  church  platform,  indeed  ! 


(A 
ft 
1 
SI 

15 


ii'l 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 


79 


says  she ;  '  T  guess  you  were  raised  under  a  glass 
frame  in  March,  and  transplanted  on  Independence 
Day,  warn't  you  ? '  And  oft'  she  sot,  lookin'  as 
scorney  as  a  London  lady,  and  leavin'  the  poor  min- 
ister standin'  starin'  liiie  a  stuck  pig.  '  Well,  well,' 
says  he,  liftin'  up  both  hands,  and  turnin'  up  the 
whites  of  his  eyes  like  a  duck  in  thunder,  '  if  that 
don't  bang  the  busii  I  It  fcarly  beats  sh-^ep  shearin' 
after  the  blackberry  bushes  have  got  t'  ;  wool.  It 
does,  I  vow  ;  them  are  the  tares  them  jnitarians 
sow  in  our  orain  fields  at  nii^ht;  I  <ruess  they'll 
ruinate  the  crops  yet,  and  make  the  ground  so  ever- 
lasting foul,  we'll  nave  to  pare  the  sod  and  burn  it, 
to  kill  the  roots.  Our  fathers  sowed  the  riuht  seed 
here  in  the  wilderness,  and  watered  it  with  their 
tears,  and  watched  over  it  with  fastin'  and  prayer, 
and  now  it's  fairly  run  out,  that's  a  fact,  I  snore. 
It's  got  choked  up  with  all  sorts  of  trash  in  natur*, 
I  declare.  Dear,  dear,  I  vow  1  never  seed  the  beat 
o'  that  in  all  my  born  days.' 

"  Now  the  Bluenoses  are  like  that  'ere  gal ;  they 
have  grown  up,  md  grown  up  in  ignorance  of  many 
tilings  they  hadn't  ought  not  to  know  ;  and  it's  as 
hard  to  teach  grown  up  folks  as  it  is  to  break  a  six- 
year-old  horse ;  and  they  do  rile  one's  temper  so 
—  they  act  so  ugly,  that  it  tempts  one  sometimes  to 
break  their  confounded  necks;  it's  near  about  as 
much  trouble  as  it's  worth." 

"  What  remedy  is  there  for  all  this  supineness  ?  " 
laid  I ;  "  how  can  these  people  be  awakened  out  of 
their  ignorant  «lothfu!ness.  int(»  'u'tivr  cxfition  ?  " 


I    I  F 


J'i 


%  M''\ 


i^ 


:^s 


80 


THE   CLOCKMAKEH. 


u 


The  remedy,"  said  ]\Ir.  Slick,  *'  is  at  hand  ;  it 
is  already  woikin'  its  own  cure.  They  must  recede 
before  our  iVee  and  eidigntened  citizens,  like  thi 
Indians ;  our  folks  will  buy  theui  out,  and  they  must 
give  place  to  a  more  intelliirc.it  and  wc-tive  people. 
They  must  "o  to  the  lands  of  Lubrador  >r  be  lo- 
cated  back  of  Canada;  they  can  hold  on  there  a 
few  years,  until  the  wave  of  civilization  reaches 
them,  and  then  they  must  move  ajjjain  as  the  savages 
do.  It  is  decreed ;  I  hear  the  bugle  of  destiny  a 
soundin'  of  their  retreat,  as  plain  as  anything. 
Conjjress  will  cive  them  a  concession  of  land,  if 
they  petition,  away  to  Alleghany's  backside  territory, 
and  grant  them  relief  for  a  few  years ;  for  we  are  out 
of  debt,  and  don't  know  what  to  do  with  our  surplus 
revenue.  The  only  way  to  shame  them,  that  I 
know,  would  be  to  sarve  them  as  Uncle  Enoch  sarved 
a  neighbor  of  his  in  Varginny. 

"  There  was  a  lady  that  had  a  plantation  near 
hand  to  his'n,  and  there  was  only  a  small  river 
atwixt  the  two  houses,  so  that  folks  could  hear  each 
other  talk  across  it.  Well,  she  was  a  dreadful  cross- 
grained  woman,  a  real  catatnount,  as  savage  as  a 
she-bear  that  has  cubs  ;  an  old  farrow  critter,  as 
Mgly  as  sin,  and  one  that  both  hooked  and  kicked 
100  —  a  most  particular  onmarciful  she-devil,  that's 
a  fact.  She  used  to  have  some  of  her  nijiiiers  tied 
up  every  day,  and  flogged  uncommon  severe,  and 
their  screams  and  screeches  were  horrid  —  no  soul 
could  stand  it ;  nothin'  was  heerd  all   day  but  '  C 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 


81 


Ijord  Missus  !  0  Lord  Missus  !  '  Enocli  was  fairly 
sick  of  the  soiiiul,  for  he  was  a  teiichn'-iiearted  man, 
and  savs  ho  to  her  oiio  dav,  '  Now  do,  niann,  fma 
out  some  other  phice  to  <;ive  \onr  cattle  the  cow- 
skin,  for  it  worries  me  to  hear  'em  take  on  so  dread- 
ful bad  ;  I  can't  stand  it,  I  vow ;  they  are  flesh  and 
blood  as  well  as  we  he,  thouj^h  the  meat  is  a  differ- 
ent color.'  But  it  was  no  good ;  she  jist  up  and  told 
him  to  mind  his  own  business,  and  she  guessed  she'd 
mind  her'n.  lie  was  determined  to  shiuiie  her  out 
of  it ;  so  one  mornin' arter  breakfast  he  goes  into 
the  cane  field,  and  says  he  t-^  Lavender,  one  of  the 
black  overseers,  '  Muster  up  the  whole  gang  of 
slaves,  every  soul,  and  bring  'em  down  to  the  whip- 
pin'  post,  the  whole  stock  of  them,  bulls,  cows,  and 
calves.'  Well,  away  goes  Lavender,  and  drives  up 
all  the  niggers.  '  Now  you  catch  it,'  says  he,  '  you 
lazy  villains  ;  I  tole  you  so  many  a  time  —  I  tole  you 
massa  he  lose  all  patience  wid  you,  you  good  for- 
nothin'  rascals.  I  grad,  upon  my  soul,  I  werry  grad  ; 
you  mind  now  what  old  Lavender  say  anoder  time.' 
'I'he  black  overseers  are  always  the  most  cruel,'*  said 
the  Clockmaker ;  ''  they  have  no  sort  of  feeling  for 
their  own  people. 

"  Well,  when  they  were  gathered  there  according 
to  orders,  they  looked  streaked  enough  you  may  de- 
pend, thinkin'  they  were  going  to  get  it  all  round; 
and  the  wenches  they  fell  to  a  cryin',  wringin*  their 
hands,  and  boo-hooing  like  mad.  Lavender  was 
there  with  his  cowskin,  grinnin'  'ike  a  chessy  cat,  and 
6 


'II 


w 


" 


h     \: 


5      ' 


11 


*il:3 


; , 


,is  r 


82 


THE   CLOCKMA  KER. 


k 


!! 


crackin'  it  about,  ready  for  business.  '  Pick  me  out,' 
says  Enoch,  'four  that  have  the  loudest  voices. 
'Hard  matter  dat,' says  Lavender,  'hard  matter  dat^ 
niassa ;  dey  all  talk  loud,  dey  all  lub  talk  more  bet- 
ter nor  work  —  de  idle  villains  ;  better  *^ib 'em  all  a 
little  tickle,  jist  to  teach  'em  to  larf  on  t'other  side 
of  he  mouf;  dat  side  bran  new,  dey  never  use  it 
yet.'  '  Do  as  I  order  you,  sir/  said  Uncle,  'or  I'M 
have  you  triced  up,  yon  cruel  old  rascal  you.'  When 
they  were  picked  out  and  sot  by  themselves,  they 
hanged  tiieir  heads,  and  looked  like  sheep  going  to 
the  shambles.  '  Now,'  says  Uncle  Enoch,  '  my  pick- 
aninnies, do  you  sing  out  as  loud  as  Niagara,  at  the 
very  tip  eend  of  your  voice  — 

'  *'  Don't  kill  a  nijjjger,  pniy, 
Let  liim  lib  aiioder  day. 

0  1.01(1  Mis«us  —  0  Lord  Missus! 

'  *'  My  back  be  \  ery  sore, 
No  stand  it  any  more. 

0  Lord  Missus  —  O  Lord  Missus!  " 

And  all  the  rest  of  you  join  chorus,  as  loud  as  you 
can  bawl,  ''  O  Lord  Missus." '  The  black  rascals  un- 
derstood the  joke  real  well.  They  larfed  ready  to 
split  their  sides ;  they  fairly  lay  down  on  the  ground, 
and  rolled  over  and  over  with  lafter.  Well,  when 
they  came  to  the  chorus,  '  O  Lord  Missus,'  if  they 
didn't  let  go,  it's  a  pity.  They  made  the  river  ring 
ftg'in  —  they  were  heerd  clean  out  to  sea.  All  the 
folks  ran  out  of  the  lady's  house,  to  see  what  on 
airth  was  the  matter  on  Uncle  Enoch's  plantation 


THE  AMERICAN  EAGLE. 


88 


ihey  thought  there  was  actilly  n  rebt'llion  there ;  but 
when  they  listened  avvliile,  and  heerd  it  over  and 
over  again,  the/  took  tiie  hint,  and  returned  a  hufin' 
in  thi'ir  sleeves.  Says  they,  '  Master  luioch  Slick, 
he  upsides  with  Missus  this  hitch  anyhow.'  Uncle 
never  he(;rd  anything  more  of  '  O  Lord  Missus,'  after 
Ihat.  Yes,  they  ought  to  be  shamed  out  of  it,  those 
llluenoses.  When  reason  fails  to  conviiice,  there  is 
nothin'  left  but  ridicule.  If  they  have  no  ambition, 
ai)ply  to  their  feelings,  clap  a  blister  on  their  pride, 
and  it  will  do  the  business.  It's  like  a  puttin'  gin- 
ger under  a  horse's  tail ;  it  makes  him  carry  up  real 
handswm,  I  tell  you.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  was  al- 
ways late  to  school ;  well,  father's  preachin'  I  didn't 
mind  much,  but  I  never  could  bear  to  hear  my 
mother  sry,  'Why  Sam,  are  you  actilly  up  for  all 
day?  W  11,  I  hope  your  airly  risin'  won't  hurt  you, 
I  declare.  What  on  lirth  is  a  goln'  to  happen  now  ? 
Well,  wonders  will  never  cease.'  It  raised  my  dan- 
der ;  at  last  says  I,  '  Now,  mother,  don't  say  that 
ere  any  more  for  gracious'  sake,  for  it  makes  me 
feel  ngly,  and  I'll  get  up  as  airly  as  any  on  you ;  * 
and  so  I  did,  and  I  soon  found  what's  worth  knowin' 
in  this  life,  —  An  early  start  rnak^s  easy  stages'^ 


■Mi 


1 


-M 


CIIArTEll   XIII. 


THE    CLOCKMAKKUS    OlMNION    OF    HALIFAX. 


u 


The  next  morning  was  warmer  than  several  that 
had  preceded  it.  It  was  oik*  of  tliose  uncommonly 
fine  days  that  distin^uisli  an  American  iuilumn. 

''  I  guess,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  '"  tiie  heat  to-day  is  like 
a  glass  of  mint  jtilip,  with  a  hiiup  of  ice  in  it ;  it 
tastes  cool,  and  feels  warm  ;  it's  real  good,  I  tell  you. 
I  love  such  a  day  as  this,  dearly.  It's  generally  al- 
lowed the  finest  weather  in  the  world  is  in  America; 
there  ain't  the  l)eat  of  it  to  be  found  anywhere."  He 
then  liiihted  a  ciijar,  and  throwini:  himself  back  on 
his  chair,  put  both  feet  out  of  tlie  window,  and  sat 
with  his  arms  folded,  a  perfect  picture  of  happiness. 

"You  appear."  said  I, "  to  have  travelled  over  the 
whole  of  this  Province,  and  to  have  observed  the 
country  and  the  people  with  much  attention  ;  pray 
what  is  your  opinion  of  the  present  state  and  future 
prospects  of  Halifax?" 

"  If  you  will  tell  me,"  said  he,  "when  the  folks 
there  will  wake  up,  then  I  can  answer  you ;  but 
they   are   fast   asleep.     As   to    the  Province,  it's  a 


rni-:  cr.ocKMAKEtvs  or r sign. 


85 


sat 

L'SS. 

the 
the 
ray 
lire 


splendid  Provinco,  fvtid  calculat(Ml  to  rtn  nhoad.  It 
will  irrow  as  fast  as  a  V!inj[i»'iiv  "ritl  ;  and  tlu'V  iirow 
Ro  ania/.in'  fast,  if  yon  put  vonr  arm  round  one  of 
their  nocks  to  kiss  th(!in,  by  tin;  time  you're  done, 
they've  jrrown  up  into  wonu'H.  It's  a  f)r('tty  Prov- 
ince I  tell  you,  ^ood  ai)ove  and  better  below  ;  sur- 
face covered  with  pastures,  meadows,  woods,  and  a 
'nation  sijjjht  of  waicr  privilejjes,  and  under  the 
ground  full  of  mines.  It  puts  me  in  mind  of  the 
soup  at  the  7'/'e<'-mont  House. 

"One  day  I  was  a  walkin'  in  the  INIall,  and  who 
should  I  meet  but  INInjor  Bradford,  a  gentleman 
from  Connecticut,  that  traded  in  calves  and  pump- 
kins for  the  Boston  market.  Says  he, '  Slick,  where 
do  you  get  your  grub  to-day  ?  '  'At  General  Peep's 
tavern,'  says  I.  'Oidy  'fit  for  niggers,'  says  he; 
'why  don't  you  come  to  the  7\ec-\\\o\\t  House? 
that's  the  most  splendid  thing,  it's  generally  allowed, 
in  all  the  world.'  '  AVHiy,'  says  I,  'that's  a  fiotch 
above  my  mark  ;  I  guess  it's  too  plaguy  dear  for 
me;  I  can't  afford  it  nohow.'  '  Well,'  says  he,  'it's 
dear  in  one  sense,  but  it's  dog  cheap  in  another:  it's 
a  grand  place  for  speculation.  There's  so  mnny  rich 
Southerners  and  strangers  there  that  have  more 
money  than  wit,  that  you  might  do  a  pretty  good 
business  there  without  ofoin'  out  of  the  street  door. 
T  made  two  hundred  dollars  this  mornin'  in  little  less 
ihan  half  no  time.  There's  a  Carolina  lawyer  there 
as  rich  as  a  bank,  and  savs  he  to  me  arter  break- 
fast,  *'  Major,"  says  he,  "  I  wish  I  knew  where  to  get 


(I 

■  Hi 


f  ''I 


86 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


.ill  ! 


Ill 


a  real  slapping  trotter  of  a  horse,  one  that  could  trot 
with  a  flash  of  lightning  for  a  mile,  and  beat  it  by  a 
whole  neck  or  so."  Says  T,  "  My  Lord,"  for  you 
must  know,  he  savs  he's  the  nearest  male  heir  to  a 
Scotch  dormant  peerage,  "  my  Lord,"  says  I,  "  I 
have  one,  a  proper  sneezer,  a  chap  that  can  go  ahead 
of  a  raih'oad  steamer,  a  real  natural  traveller,  one 
tiiat  can  trot  with  the  ball  out  of  the  small  eend  of  a 
rifle,  and  never  break  into  a  gallop."  Says  he, 
'•  Major,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  give  me  that  'ere  nick- 
name, I  don't  like  it,"  though  he  looked  as  tickled 
all  the  time  as  possible;  "I  never  knew,"  says  he, 
"a  lord  that  warn't  a  fool,  that's  a  fact,  and  that's 
the  reason  I  don't  go  ahead  and  claim  the  title." 
"  Well,"  says  I,  "  my  Lord,  I  don't  know,  but  some- 
how I  can't  help  a  thinkin'  if  you  have  a  good  claim, 
you'd  be  lijore  like  a  fool  not  to  go  ahead  with  it." 
"  Well,"  says  he,  "  lord  or  no  lord,  let's  look  at 
your  horse."  So  away  1  went  to  Joe  Brown's  livery 
stable,  at  t'other  eend  of  the  city,  and  picked  out  the 
best  trotter  he  had,  and  no  fj^'^at  stick  to  brag  on 
either ;  says  T,  "  Joe  Brown,  what  do  you  ax  for 
that  'ere  horse  ?  "  "  Two  hundred  dollars,"  says  he. 
"  Well,"  says  I,  '"'  I  will  take  him  out  and  try  him, 
and  if  I  like  him  I  will  keep  h'm."  So  I  shows  our 
Carolina  lord  the  horse,  and  when  he  <rets  on  him 
says  I,  "  Don't  let  him  trot  as  fast  as  he  can,  resarve 
that  for  a  heat ;  if  folks  find  out  how  everlastin 
fast  he  is,  they'd  be  afeared  to  stump  you  for  a  start." 
When  he  returned,  he  said  he  liked  the  horse  amaz< 


THE   CLOCKMAKER'S  OPINION. 


87 


on 
for 
he. 
Iiini, 
our 
im 
rve 
tin 
rt." 
az* 


ingly,  and  axed  the  price.  "  Four  hundred  dollars," 
Bays  I ;  "  you  can't  get  nothin'  special  without  a  good 
price  ;  pewter  cases  never  hold  good  watches."  "  I 
know  it,"  says  he  ;  "  the  horse  is  mine."  Thinks  I 
to  myself,  that's  more  than  ever  I  could  say  of  him 
then,  anyhow.' 

"  Well,  I  was  goin'  to  tell  you  about  the  soup  : 
says  the  Major,  '  It's  near  about  dinner  time  ;  jist 
come  and  see  how  vou  like  the  location.'  There  was 
a  sight  of  folks  there,  gentleuien  and  ladies  in  the 
public  room  —  I  never  seed  so  many  afore  except  at 
Connnencement  Day  —  all  ready  for  a  start,  and 
when  the  gong  sounded,  off  we  sot  like  a  flock  of 
sheep.  Well,  if  there  warn't  a  jam  you  may  de- 
pend ;  some  one  give  i  le  a  pull,  and  I  nearabouts 
went  heels  up  over  head  ;  so  I  reached  out  both 
hands,  and  cautrht  hold  of  the  firsc  thinof  I  could,  and 
what  should  it  be  but  a  lady's  dress.  Well,  as  I'm 
alive,  rip  went  the  frock,  and  tear  goes  the  petticoat, 
and  when  I  righted  myself  fiom  my  beam-eends 
away  they  all  came  home  to  me,  and  there  she  was, 
the  pretty  critter,  with  all  her  upper  riggin'  standin' 
as  far  as  her  waist,  and  nothin'  left  below  but  a  short 
linen  under-garment.  If  she  didn't  scream,  it's  a 
pity  ;  and  the  more  she  screamed,  the  more  folks 
larfed,  for  no  soul  could  help  larfin',  tir  one  of  the 
waiters  folded  her  up  in  a  tablecloth. 

" '  What  an  awkward  devil  you  be.  Slick,'  says  the 
Major;  'now  that  comes  of  not  falling  in  first ;  they 
should  have  formed  four  deep,  rear  rank  in   open 


11 

■J 

Hi 


'1 


I'i 


i  if 


il 


88 


THE  CLOCKMAKEH. 


order,  and  marched  in  to  our  splendid  national  air, 
and  filed  off  to  their  seats,  right  and  left,  shoulders 
forward.  I  feel  kinder  sorry,  too,'  says  he,  '  for  that 
'ere  young  heifer ;  but  she  showed  a  proper  pretty 
leg  though,  Slick,  didn't  she  ?  I  guess  you  don't 
often  get  such  a  chance  as  that  'ere.'  Well,  I  cets 
near  the  Major  at  table,  and  afore  nie  stood  a  china 
utensil  with  two  handles,  full  of  soup,  about  the  size 
of  a  foot-tub,  with  a  large  silver  scoop  in  it,  near 
about  as  big  as  a  ladle  of  a  tnaple  sugar  kettle.  I 
was  jist  about  bailing  out  some  soup  into  my  dish, 
when  the  Major  said,  '  Fish  it  up  from  the  bottom. 
Slick.'  Well,  sure  enou<jh,  I  gives  it  a  drag  from 
the  bottom,  and  up  come  the  fat  pieces  of  turtle,  and 
the  thick  rich  soup,  and  a  sight  of  little  forced  meat 
balls,  of  the  size  of  sheep's  dung.  No  soul  could  tell 
how  good  it  was  ;  it  was  near  about  as  handswm  as 
father's  old  genuine  particular  cider,  and  that  you 
could  feel  tingle  clean  away  down  to  the  tip  eends 
of  your  toes.  '  Now,'  says  the  Major,  Til  give  you, 
Slick,  a  new  wrinkle  on  vour  horn.  Folks  ain't 
thought  nothin'  of,  unless  they  live  at  Treemont :  it's 
all  the  go.  Do  you  dine  at  Peep's  tavern  every  day, 
and  then  off  hot  foot  to  Treemont,  and  pick  your 
teeth  on  the  street  steps  there,  and  folks  will  think 
you  dine  there.  I  do  it  often,  and  it  saves  two 
dollars  a  day.'  Then  he  put  his  finger  on  his  nose, 
and  says  he,  '  Mum  is  the  word.' 

"  Now,  this  Province  is  jist  like  that  'ere  soup  — 
good  enough  at  top,  but  dip  down  and  you  have  the 


THE  CLOCKMAKEIVS  OPINION. 


89 


,  t 


it's 

our 
link 
two 
pse, 


the 


riches ;  the  coal,  the  iron  ore,  the  gypsum,  and  what 
not.     As   for    Halifax,   it's   well    enough   in    itself, 
though   no    great   shakes   neither,  —  a   few   sizable 
houses,  with  a  proper  sight  of  small  ones,  like  half  a 
dozen  old  hens  with  their  broods  of  young  chickens; 
but   the   people,  the   strange    critters,  they  are   all 
asleep.     They  walk  in  their  sleep,  and  talk  in  their 
sleep,  and  what  they  say  one  day  they  forget  the 
next ;  they  say    they    were    dreaming.     You    know 
where  Governor  Campbell  lives,  don't  you,  in  a  large 
stone  house,  with  a  great  wall  round  it,  that  looks 
like  a  state    prison?     Well,  near   hand    there   is  a 
nasty,  dirty,  horrid  lookin'  buryin'  ground  there ;  it's 
filled  with  laroe  crrave  rats  as  bifj  as  kittens,  and  the 
springs  of  black  water  there  go  through  the  chinks 
of  the  rocks  and  flow  into  all  the  wells,  and  fairly 
pison    the  folks;  it's  a  dismal    place,  I  tell  you;  I 
wonder  the  air  from  it  don't  turn  all  the  silver  in  the 
Governor's  house  of  a  brass  color,  —  and  folks  say  ho 
has  four  cart-loads  of  it,  —  it's  so  everlastin"  bad ; 
it's  near  about  as  nosey  as  a  slave  ship  of  niggers. 
Well,  you  may  go  there  and  shake  the  folks  to  all 
etarnity,  and  you  won't  wake  em,  I  guess ;  and  yet 
there  ain't  much  difference  atween  their  sleep  and 
the  folks  at  Halifax,  only  they  lie  sj;ill  there  and  are 
quiet,  and  don't  walk  and  talk  in  their  sleep,  like 
ihem  above  jr^'ound. 

*'  Halifax  reminds  me  of  a  Russian  officer  I  once 
seed  at  Warsaw  ;  he  had  lost  both  arms  in  battle  — 
but  I  guess  I  must  tell  you  first  why  I  went  there, 


-If: 


if 
i- 


,\ 


it 


90 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


1 1 


cause  that  will  show  you  how  we  speculate.     One 
Sabbath  day,  after  bell  ringiu,'  wheu    most  of  the 
women  had  gone  to  meetin'  —  for  they  were  great 
hands  for  pretty  sarmons,  and  our  Unitarian   minis- 
ters all  preach  poetry,  only  they  leave  the  rhyme  out; 
it  sparkles  like  perry —  I  goes  down  to  East  India 
wharf  to  see  Captain  Zeek  Hancock,  of  Nantucket. 
to  inquire  how  oil  was,  and  if  it  would  bear  doing 
anything   in;   when    who    should    come    along    but 
Jabish  Green.     'Slick,'  says  he,  'how  do  you  do? 
isn't  this  as  pretty  a  day  as  you'll  see  between  this 
and  Norfolk  ?  it  whips  English  weather  by  a  long 
chalk ; '  and  then  he  looked  down  at  my  watch  seals, 
and  looked  and  looked  as  if  hethoiioht  I'd  stole  'em. 
At  last  he  looks  up,  and  says  he,  '  Slick,  I  suppose 
you  wouldn't  go  to  Warsaw,  would   you,  if  it  was 
made  worth  your  while?'     'Which  Warsaw?'  says 
I,  for  I  believe  in  my  heart  we  have  a  hundred  of 
them.     'None  of  our'n  at  all,'  says  he;  '  Warsaw  in 
Poland.'     '  Well,  I    don't   know,'  says  I ;  '  what  do 
you  call  worth  while  ?  '     '  Six  dollars  a  day,  expenses 
paid,  and  a  bonus  of  one  thousand  dollars,  if  specula- 
tion turns  out  well.'     '  I  am  off,*  says  I,  '  whenever 
you  say  go.'     'Tuesday,'  says  he, 'in  the  Hamburg 
packet.     Now,'  says  he,  'I'm  in  a  tarnation  hurry; 
I'm  goin'  a  pleasurin'  to-day  in  tlie  Custom  House 
boat,  along  with   Josiah    B'adtord's   gals   down    to 
Nahant.     But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  am  at :  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia  has  ordered  the  Poles  to  cut  off 
^heir  queues  on  th'?  1st  of  -Tanuary  ;  you  must  buj 


THE   CLOCKMAKER'S  OPINION. 


91 


but 


lonor 


urg 


them  all  up,  and  ship  them  off  to  London  for  the 
wig  makers.  Human  hair  is  scarce,  and  risin.* 
*  Lord  a  massy  ! '  says  I,  '  how  queer  they  will  look, 
won't  they  ?  Well,  I  vow,  that's  what  the  sea  folks 
call  sailing  under  bare  Poles,  come  true,  ain't  it?* 
*I  guess  it  will  turn  out  a  good  spec,'  says  he ;  and  a 
good  one  it  did  turn  out  —  he  cleared  ten  thousand 
dollars  bv  it. 

ft/ 

"  When  I  was  at  Warsaw,  as  I  was  a  sayin',  there 
was  a  Russian  officer  there  who  had  lost  both  his 
arms  in  battle,  a  good-natured,  contented  critter,  as 
I  e'enamost  ever  seed,  and  he  was  fed  with  spoons 
by  his  neighbors  ;  but  arter  a  while  they  grew  tired 
of  it,  and  I  guess  he  near  about  starved  to  death  at 
last.  Now  ILilifax  is  like  that  'ere  Spooney,  as  I 
used  to  call  him  ;  it  is  fed  by  the  outports,  and  they 
beiiin  to  have  enou<][h  to  do  to  feed  themselves  ;  it 
must  larn  to  live  without  'em.  They  have  no  river, 
and  no  country  about  them;  let  them  make  a  rail- 
road to  Minas  Basin,  and  they  will  have  arms  of 
their  own  to  feed  themselves  with.  If  they  don't  do 
it,  and  do  it  soon,  I  guess  thev'll  Sfet  into  a  decline 
that  no  human  skill  will  cure.  They  are  proper  thin 
now ;  you  can  count  their  ribs  e'enamost  as  far  as 
you  can  see  them.  Tlie  only  thing  that  will  either 
make  or  save  Halifax,  is  a  railroad  across  the  country 
to  Bay  of  Fumly. 

"'It  will  do  to  talk  of,' says  one.  'You'll  see  it 
Bome  day,'  says  another.  '  Yes,'  says  a  third,  '  it  wiU 
Qome,  but  we  are  too  young  yet' 


J* 


III 

J 


92 


THE  CLOCKMAKER, 


b"t   you  are    too  voini.  vt/    T  '  '^'  '"^^  ^'^"^« 

fJiMnV    fi  •   .  .>"i'"g  vet,    dear.'     WVII     n,^i 

"'<"i  t    think  so   at  -ill.    oj  .,  *    ■'^JJoebe 

""-V  bette..  no..  1^,  ' ^l^^t  r'''   •^"« 
«»'d  she  h,cl  „o  n«ti<  „  ,n  T  '''"  '""'-  «''« 

^he  shot  to  Khode       ;,;  Tl  '"""'^'-  '^''-'-  '  off 
^he,  'Fathers  too  ode  ^  f"  "T"'-     ^a.s 
'''e  ease  at   fialirax.     1   e  o  d    o  l""      ,''"""  J'^' 
-  'o"  .v<".ng,  the  tin,e  wi  ,  e  11^"^  "'«  -^""""-^ 
"le  mean  ti,„e  the  vo„.,„  fu  ""  °" '  "'"1  >" 

0^  to  tke  State.,  ICl"^''  '!''''}  ^-'^  -^^  -» 

r««.   for  LrtZ';SZ  ""T  ''   ""'"■  ""^ 
ahead:  ^  ^   on -^  keep    movin' ^go 

^^^,ZZ^^t-'  "•^'■>.  With 
«"',  "darn  it  all  it  fm-lv  ,  '  "^  •^'"^"^"'ff  his 
«ee  the  nasty,  id ^  '"^  ?""'^^  '"^  Zander  rise,  to 
"e  critters;  ^    J    h     fif;:-"""''-^---''"-",,  do-iit- 

T'-ey  ought  to  be  q     ted  !     "  '''""  "-^P'  ^  ^°>-- 

"•'-  a  lady's  ,ap!do"  t  ,e    n'tt     ''r'  """"  '^  --"' 
^f;epthenUiL.i;;:;:-:^^;r'.oursada,. 

"Hush,hushr",„idj  .J   ^,^^- 
"Well,"  said  he,  res  „.i,      ,  '  ^''"  ^"''S^'-" 

"well,  U-s  enough  to  n.ak  ""  '"'""  '^'""P— ' 

Clare, -isn't  i,?»       ""''"'  ""^  ^«^«d  "'ough,  1  d^ 


if 


THE   CLOCKMAKER'S   OPINION. 


93 


Mr.  Slick  lias  often  alluded  to  this  subject,  and  al- 
ways in  a  most  decided  manner.  I  am  inclined  to 
think  he  is  right.  Mr.  Howe's  papers  on  the  railroad 
I  read,  till  1  came  to  his  calculations,  but  I  never 
could  read  figures  ;  "  I  can't  cipher,"  and  there  I 
paused  ;  it  is  a  barrier  ;  I  retreated  a  few  paces,  took 
a  running  leap,  and  cleared  the  whole  of  them.  Mr. 
Slick  says  he  has  under  and  not  over  rated  its  advan- 
tages. He  appears  to  be  such  a  shrewd,  observing,  in- 
telligent man,  and  so  perfectly  at  home  on  these  sub- 
jects, that  I  confess  I  have  more  faith  in  this  humble 
but  eccentric  Clockinaker  than  in  any  other  man  I 
have  met  with  in  this  Province.  I  therefore  pro- 
nounce, "  T/iere  wUc  be  a  railroad.'^ 


'iH: 


ire. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS  IN  CUMBERLAND. 


\i) 


liifi: 


vi 


"  I  RECKON,"  said  the  Clockmuker.  as  we  strolled 
through  Amherst,  "  you  have  read  Hook's  story  of 
the  boy  that  one  day  asked  one  of  his  father's  guests 
who  his  next  door  neiiihbor  was,  and  vvhen  he  heerd 
his  name,  asked  him  if  he  wani't  a  fool.  '  No,  my 
little  feller,'  said  he,  '  he  bean't  a  fool,  he  is  a  most 
particular  sensible  man  :  but  wiiy  did  you  ax  that 
'ere  question  ? '  '  Why.'  said  the  little  boy,  '  mother 
said  t'other  day  you  were  next  door  to  a  fool,  and  I 
wanted  to  know  who  lived  next  door  to  you.'  His 
mother  felt  pretty  ugly,  I  guess,  when  she  heerd  him 
run  right  slap  on  that  'ere  breaker. 

"  Now  these  Cumberland  folks  have  curious  next 
door  neighbors,  too ;  they  are  placed  by  their  loca 
tion  right  atwixt  fire  and  water  ;  they  have  New 
Brunswick  politics  on  one  side,  and  Nova  Scotia 
politics  on  t'other  side  of  them,  and  Bay  Fundy  and 
Bay  Varte  on  t'other  two  sides ;  they  are  actilly  in 
hot  water ;  they  are  up  to  their  cruppers  in  politics, 
and  great  hands  for  talking  of  House  of  Assembly 


SAYINGS  AiWD  DOINGS  IN  CUMBERLAND.     95 


Inext 

I  oca 

[ew 

[otia 

land 

in 

[ics, 


political  Unions,  and  what  not.  Like  all  folks  who 
wade  so  deep,  they  can't  always  tell  the  natnr  of  the 
ford.  Sometimes  thev  strike  their  shins  agin  a  snajj 
of  a  rock  ;  at  other  times,  they  go  whap  into  a  qnick- 
sand,  and  if  they  don't  take  special  care  they  are  apt 
to  go  souse  over  head  and  ears  into  deep  water.  I 
guess  if  they'd  talk  more  of  rotation,  and  less  of  clec- 
tions^  more  of  them  'ere  dykes,  and  less  of  banks, 
and  attend  more  to  top  dressing,  and  less  to  re-dress- 
ing, it  'd  be  better  for  'em." 

"  Now  you  mention  the  subject,  I  think  I  have  ob- 
served," said  I,  ''  that  there  is  a  great  change  in  your 
countrymen  in  that  respeyt.  Formerly,  whenever 
you  met  an  American,  you  had  a  dish  of  politics  set 
before  you,  whether  you  had  an  appetite  for  it  or 
not  ;  but  lately  I  have  remarked  they  seldom  allude 
to  it.     Pray,  to  what  is  this  attributable  ?" 

"  I  guess,"  said  he,  *'  they  have  enough  of  it  to 
home,  and  are  sick  of  the  subject.  Tiiey  are  cured 
the  way  our  pastry  cooks  cure  their  'prentices  of 
stealing  sweet  notions  out  of  their  shops.  When 
they  get  a  new  'prentice  they  tell  him  he  must  never 
so  much  as  look  at  all  them  'ere  nice  things  ;  and  if 
he  dares  to  lay  the  weight  of  his  finger  upon  one  of 
them,  they'll  have  him  up  for  it  before  a  justice  ; 
they  tell  him  it's  every  bit  and  grain  as  bad  as  steal- 
ing from  a  till.  Well,  that's  sure  to  set  him  at  it, 
just  as  a  high  fence  does  a  breachy  ox,  first  to  look 
over  it,  and  then  push  it  down  with  its  rump ;  it's 
human  natur.'     Well,  the  boy  eats  and  eats  till  he 


III 


96 


'''HE   CLOCKMAKMR. 


cnn't  eat  no  loruror    nnr?  ff,.     , 

artcrivanls.  ^  *'"'"   "f  sweetmeaty 

"  '*^«"ve  had  politic,  witi,  „,  ,:„       ,       , 
«"'.  I  tell  ,o„.     ,ie,i,,,,         "'  ""  "'«'•'-'  'l"g  sick  of 

«^'-p''e-i"g  t„  tell  tl  ..t      T  ''"'"V"'''^  "  S'--'t  deal  of 
had  .see,rit.  ^  "everheerd  tell  of  one  who 

''  riie  best  nienihpi-  T   «♦ 

John  Ad ,    AV  11    ,o|.r";;"''  '^^'-■'-  '^'^^  -«^ 

P'o-'gh  a  .straight  f  .V;  '^''?":-'  ^"'"^   ■><>   "-ore 

''•'»"  'he  plough  1  i,  ::i7   I  ^']'T  "'""  ""^  ^o'"" 
«'  hegi,„.v  ,„,  ^  litt,  '4'\:;f  -'  ""t  straight 

"ooked  afore  he  got  to  the^'ee  of  Ti!''  ''"?  '"  «<=' 
»on.etn„e.  he  would  have  two  o  tif  "l^"'  '"'' 
I  used  to  say  to  him  '  ti  '^^'^  '^'''o'^s  in  it 

-for  he  was  no":,;';:-!";-"  -  '^  Mr.  Ada,,, J 

P'-eside„tofo„r„,"T„'i  'f'  "'""'''   ''^   -a 

'he  greatest  nation  hrrw"";  T^  "  '^  "'"»'-''  '<>  he 
«ee  hin.  son,e.i,neso?an  „?     '  ""' ^  ""•  ^""  "■■ght 
with  the  boys  in  the  Pot        """"  "  "^""""■"'  "'""g 
the  way  he  larned  to  give  the  /.t     ^"'  """'^ 
^Pry.^well  I  used  to  snv  to  r   "'"  '^"^^^  «« 

t.  Mr.  Adams.  vo„  dn'    ^   t        '  '  ""^  "n  airth  is 
H«-as   a  g,;;^d  hand  r      "'"■*'''' "'"'•'^  <"'"•" 

«cuse  we,e  seldon.    .ood  fo '    '  T    f  ^'""'  "'  '"' 


ilong 


SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS  IN  CUMBEliLAND.     97 

tlirowed  the  plough  out ;  at  otlior  times  he  said  the 
ofTox  was  such  iiii  ugly,  wilinil  tempered  critter,  there 
was  no  doiii'  nothin'  witli  him  ;  or  tluit  tiiere  was  so 
much  machinery  al)out  tlie  nh)ugh,  it  made  it  plaguy 
hard  to  steer;  or  maybe  it  was  the  fault  of  them 
that  went  afore  him,  tiiat  tliey  laid  it  down  so  bad, 
—  unless  he  was  hired  for  another  term  of  four  years 
the  work  wouldn't  look  well ;  and  if  all  them  'ere 
excuses  wouldn't  do,  why,  he  would  take  to  scolding 
the  nijiser  that  drove  the  team,  throw  all  the  blame 
on  him,  and  order  him  to  have  an  everlastin'  lacin* 
with  the  cowskin.  You  might  as  well  catch  a  weasel 
asleep  as  catch  him.  He  had  somethin'  the  matter 
with  one  eye ;  well,  he  knew  I  know'd  that  when  I 
was  a  boy ;  so  one  day  a  feller  presented  a  petition 
to  him,  and  he  told  him  it  was  very  atfectin'.  Says 
he,'  It  fairly  draws  tears  from  me,'  and  his  weak  eye 
took  to  lettin'  off  its  water  like  statiee ;  so  as  soon  as 
the  chap  went,  he  winks  to  me  with  t'other  one, 
quite  i..nowin^  as  much  as  to  say,  '  You  see  it's  all  in 
my  eye,  Slick,  but  don't  let  on  to  any  one  about  it, 
that  I  said  so.'  That  eye  was  a  regular  cheat,  a 
complete  New  P^ngland  wooden  nutmeg.  Folks  said 
Mr.  Adams  was  a  very  tender  hearted  man.  Per- 
haps he  was,  but  I  guess  that  eye  didn't  pump  its 
water  out  o'  that  place. 

"  Members  in  general  ain't  to  be  depended  on,  I 
tell  you.     Politics  makes  a  man  as  crooked  as  a  pack 
does  a  peddler  ;  not  t'.iat  they  are  so  awful  heavy 
neither,  but  it  teaches  a  man  to  stoop  in  the  long  run 


U- 


:    1 


h 


H 


1!'^; 


rum  CLOCKMAKER, 


Artcr  all,  thero's  not  that  (li(Tt'renco  in  'em  —  at  least 
there  ain't  in  (>()n;j;r('.ss  —  one  would  tiiiiiU  ;  for  if 
one  of  them  is  clear  of  one  vice,  why,  as  liUe  as  not, 
he  has  another  fault  just  as  bad.  An  honest  farmer, 
like  one  of  these  Cmuberland  folks,  when  he  goes  to 
choose  atwixt  two  that  offers  for  votes,  is  jist  like  tha 
flying-fish.  That  'ere  little  critter  is  not  content  to 
stay  to  home  in  the  water,  and  mind  its  business, 
but  he  must  try  his  hand  at  flyiu',  and  he  is  no  great 
dab  at  flyin',  neither.  Well,  the  moment  he's  out  of 
water,  and  takes  to  flyin',  the  sea  fowl  are  arter  him, 
and  let  him  have  it;  and  if  he  has  the  good  luck  to 
escape  them,  and  dive  into  the  sea,  the  dolphin,  as 
like  as  not,  has  a  dig  at  him,  that  knocks  more  wind 
out  of  him  than  he  got  while  aping  the  birds,  a  l)lnguy 


rht.    I 


the  131 1 


know  jist  about 


'uess  tne  liluenoses  know 
about  politics  as  this  foolish  fish  knows  about  Hying. 
All  critters  in  nature  are  better  in  their  own  element. 

"It  beats  cock-fightin',  I  tell  you,  to  hear  the 
Bluenoses,  when  they  get  together,  talk  politics. 
They  have  got  three  or  four  evil  spirits,  like  the 
Irish  Banshees,  that  they  say  cause  all  the  nuschief 
in  the  Province:  the  Council,  the  Banks,  the  House 
of  Assembly,  and  the  Lawyers.  If  a  man  places  a 
higher  valiation  on  himself  than  his  neighbors  do, 
and  wants  to  be  a  magistrate  before  he  is  fit  to  carry 
the  inkhorn  for  one,  and  finds  himself  safely  de- 
livered of  a  mistake,  he  says  it  is  all  owing  to  the 
Council.  The  members  are  cunnin'  critters,  too; 
hey  know  this  feelin',  and  when  they  come  home 


SAYINGS  AND  DOINGS  IN  CUMnilRlAND.    99 


from  Assembly,  and  peopli*  ax  'oni,  '  Wlu»re  arc  all 
tlu'in  'ere  fine  things  yon  promised  ns?'  'Why, 
they  say,  '  we'd  a  had  'em  all  for  yon,  bnt  for  thai 
etarnal  Coimcil  ;  they  nnililied  all  we  did.'  The 
conntry  will  come  to  no  good  till  thenj  chaps  show 
their  respect  for  it,  by  covering  their  bottoms  with 
hoiiHispun.  If  a  man  is  so  tarnation  lazy  he  won't 
work,  and  in  conrse  has  no  money,  why  he  says  it's 
all  owin'  to  the  banks,  thcv  won't  disconnt,  there's 
no  money,  they've  mined  the  Province.  If  there 
bean't  a  road  niade  up  to  every  citizen's  door,  away 
back  to  the  woods,  —  who  as  like  as  not  has  squatted 
there,  —  why,  he  says  the  House  of  Assembly  have 
voted  all  the  money  to  pay  great  men's  salaries,  and 
there's  nothin'  left  for  poor  settlers,  and  cross  roads. 
Well,  the  lawy(!rs  come  in  for  their  share  of  cake 
and  ale,  too  ;  if  they  don't  catch  it,  it's  a  pity. 

"There  was  one  Jim  IMunroe,  of  Onion  County, 
Connecticut,  a  desperate  idle  fellow,  a  great  hand  at 
singin'  songs,  a  skatin',  drivin'  about  with  the  gals, 
and  so  on.  Well,  if  anybody's  windows  were  broke, 
it  was  Jim  Mnnroe ;  and  if  there  were  any  young- 
sters in  want  of  a  father  they  were  sure  to  be  poor 
Jim's.  Jist  so  it  is  with  the  lawyers  here ;  they 
stand  godfathers  for  every  misfortune  that  happens 
m  the  country.  When  there  is  a  mad  dog  a  goin' 
about,  every  dog  that  barks  is  said  to  be  bit  by  the 
mad  one,  so  he  gets  credit  for  all  the  mischief  that 
«very  dog  does  for  three  months  to  come  So  every 
MEjller  that  goes   j elfin'  home  from  a  court  house. 


'     V  ffl 


h   i 


II 


100 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


snicirtin'  from  the  law,  swears  he  is  bit  by  a  lawyer 
N«)w  there  niav  be  something  wronof  in  all  these 
things,  —  and  it  can't  be  otherwise  in  natur,'  —  in 
Council,  Banks,  House  of  Assembly,  and  Lawyers: 
but  change  them  all,  and  it's  an  even  chance  if  you 
don't  get  worse  ones  in  their  room.  It  is  in  politics 
as  in  horses :  when  a  man  has  a  beast  that's  near 
about  up  to  the  notch,  he'd  better  not  swap  him  ;  if 
he  does,  he's  e'enamost  sure  to  get  one  not  so  good 
as  his  own.  My  rule  is,  I'd  rather  keep  a  critter 
whose  faults  I  do  know,  than  change  him  for  a  becut 
whose  faults  I  donUt  know.'* 


'. 


1^' 


il 


;U.i! 


■ 


a 


CHAi'TER  XV. 


THE    DANCING    MASTER    ABROAD. 


) 


"  I  WISH  that  'ere  black  heifer  in  the  kitchen 
woiikl  ffive  over  sinoinjr  that  'ere  everlastin'  dismal 
tune,"  said  the  Clockniaker ;  "  it  makes  my  head 
ache.  You've  heerd  a  song  afore  now,"  said  he, 
"  haven't  you,  till  you  was  fairly  sick  of  it  ?  for  I  have, 
I  vow.  The  last  time  I  was  in  Rhode  Island,  —  all 
the  gals  sing  there,  and  it's  generally  allowed  there's 
no  such  singers  anywhere;  they  beat  the  ^ye-talians 
a  long  chalk  ;  they  sing  so  high,  some  on  'em,  they 
go  clear  out  o'  hearin'  sometimes,  like  a  lark,  — 
well,  you  heerd  nothin'  but  '  O  no,  we  never  mention 
her; '  well,  I  grew  so  plaguy  tired  of  it,  I  used  to  say 
to  myself,  I'd  sooner  see  it  than  hear  tell  of  it,  I  vow  ; 
I  wish  to  ijracious  vou  would  '  never  mention  her,' 
for  it  makes  me  feel  ugly  to  hear  that  same  thing 
for  ever  and  ever  and  amen  that  way.  Well,  they've 
got  a  cant  phrase  here, '  The  schoolmaster  is  abroad,' 
and  every  feller  tells  you  that  fifty  times  a  day. 

"There  was  a  chap  said  to  me  not  long  ago  at 
Truro,  '  Mr.  Slick,  this  country  is  rapidly  improving; 


1 


102 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


'/■■k 


I    V 


■'  r 


"the  .schoolmaster  is  abroad  now,"' and  he  looked 
as  kuowin'  as  thouj^h  he  had  found  a  mare's  nest. 
'So  I  sliould  think,'  said  I,  'and  it  would  jist  be 
about  as  well,  I  guess,  if  he'd  stay  to  home  and  mind 
his  business ;  for  your  folks  are  so  consoomedly 
ignorant,  I  reckon  he's  abroad  e'enamost  all  his 
time.  I  hope  when  he  returns,  he'll  be  the  better 
of  his  travels,  and  that's  more  nor  many  of  our  young 
folks  are  who  go"  abroad,"  for  they  import  more  airs 
and  nonsense  than  they  dispose  of  one  while,  I  tell 
you ;  some  of  the  stock  remains  on  hand  all  the  rest 
of  their  lives.'  There's  nothin'  I  hate  so  much  as 
cant,  of  all  kinds;  it's  a  sure  sign  of  a  tricky  dis- 
position. If  you  see  a  feller  cant  in  religion,  clap 
your  hand  into  your  pocket,  and  lay  right  hold  of 
your  puss,  or  he'll  steal  it,  as  sure  as  you're  alive ; 
and  if  a  man  cants  in  politics,  he'll  sell  you  if  he  gets 
a  chance,  you  may  depend.  Law  and  physic  are 
jist  the  same,  and  every  mite  and  morsel  as  bad. 
If  a  lawyer  takes  to  cantin',  it's  like  the  fox  preachin' 
to  the  geese  ;  he'll  eat  up  his  whole  congregation  : 
and  if  a  doctor  takes  to  it,  he's  a  quack  as  sure  as 
rates.  The  Lord  have  massy  on  you,  for  he  won't. 
I'd  sooner  trust  my  chance  with  a  naked  hook  any 
time,  than  one  that's  half-covered  with  bad  bait. 
The  fish  will  sometimes  swallow  the  one,  without 
thinkin',  but  they  get  frightened  at  t'other,  turn  tail, 
and  off  like  a  shot. 

"  Now,  to  change  the  tune,  I'll  give  the  Bluenoses 
tt  new  phrase.     They'll  have  an  election  most  likelj 


THE  LANCING  MASTEh  ABROAD. 


103 


next  year,  and  then  Hhe  DancirC  Master  will  bt 
abroad.'  A  candidate  is  a  most  particular  polite 
man,  a  noddin'  here,  and  a  bowin'  there,  and  a 
Bhakin'  hands  all  round.  *  Nothin'  improves  a  man's 
manners  like  an  election.  '  I'he  Dancin'  Master's  ♦ 
abroad  then  ;'  nothin'  gives  the  paces  equal  to  that; 
it  makes  them  as  squirmy  as  an  eel  ;  they  cross 
hands  and  back  afT'in,set  to  their  partners,  and  right 
and  left  in  great  style,  and  slick  it  off  at  the  eend, 
with  a  real  complete  bow,  and  a  smile  for  all  the 
world  as  sweet  as  a  cat  makes  at  a  pan  of  new  milk. 
Then  they  get  as  full  of  compliments  as  a  dog  is  full 
of  fleas  —  inquirin'  how  the  old  lady  is  to  home,  and 
the  little  boy  that  made  such  a  wonderful  smart  an- 
swer, they  never  can  forget  it  till  next  time ;  a 
praisin'  a  man's  farm  to  the  nines,  and  a  tellin'  of 
him  how  scandalous  the  road  that  leads  to  his  loca- 
tion has  been  neglected,  and  how  nuich  he  wants  to 
find  a  real  complete  hand  that  can  build  a  bridge 
over  his  brook,  and  axin'  him  if  he  ever  built  one. 
When  he  gets  the  hook  baited  with  the  right  fly,  and 
the  simple  critter  begins  to  jump  out  of  water  arter 
it,  all  mouth  and  gills,  he  winds  up  the  reel,  and 
takes  leave,  a  thinkin'  to  himself,  '  Now  you  see 
what's  to  the  eend  of  my  line,  I  guess  I'll  know 
where  to  find  you  when  I  want  you.' 

"  There's  no  sort  of  fishin'  requires  so  much  prac- 
tice as  this.  When  bait  is  scarce,  one  worm  must 
answer  for  several  fish.  A  handful  of  oats  in  a  pan, 
arter  it  brings  one  horse  up  in  a  pastur'  for  the  bri 


I 


m 


104 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


r'1 


die,  serves  for  another  ;  a  shakin'  of  it  is  better  than 
a  oivin'  of  it  —  it  saves  the  liiain  for  another  time. 
It's  a  poor  business  arter  all,  is  electioneering,  and 
when  '  the  Dancin'  Master  is  abroad,'  he's  as  apt  to 
teach  a  n;an  to  cut  capers  and  get  larfed  at  as  any- 
thing else.  It  ain't  every  one  that's  soople  enough 
to  dance  real  complete.  Politics  take  a  great  deal 
of  time,  and  grind  away  a  man's  honesty  near  about 
as  fast  as  cleaning  a  knife  with  brick  dust.  '  It  takes 
its  steel  out.''  What  does  a  critter  get  arter  all  for  it 
in  this  country?  Why,  nothin'  but  expense  and  dis- 
appointment. As  King  Solomon  says,  —  and  that 
'ere  man  was  up  to  a  thing  or  two,  you  may  de- 
pend, though  our  Professor  did  say  he  warn't  so 
knowin'  as  Uncle  Sam,  —  it's  all  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion of  spirit. 

'*  I  raised  a  four-year-old  colt  once,  half  blood,  a 
perfect  pictur*  of  a  horse,  and  a  genuine  clipper ; 
could  gallop  like  the  wind;  a  real  daisy,  a  perfect 
doll ;  had  an  eye  like  a  weasil,  and  nostril  like  Com- 
modore Rogers'  speakin'  trumpet.  Well,  I  took  it 
down  to  the  races  at  New  York,  and  father  he  v/ent 
along  witii  me  ;  for  says  he,  '  Sam,  you  don't  know 
everything,  I  guess ;  you  hain't  cut  your  wisdom 
teeth  yet,  and  you  are  goin'  among  them  that's  had 
'em  through  their  gums  this  while  past.'  Well, 
when  we  gets  to  the  races,  father  gets  colt  and  puts 
him  in  an  old  wagon,  with  a  wornout  Dutch  harness 
and  breast-band ;  he  looked  like  Old  Nick,  that's  a 
fact.     Then  he  fastened  a  head  martingale  on,  and 


THE  DANCING  MASTER  ABROAD. 


10,' 


1    '  ■ 


buckled  it  to  the  girths  utwixt  his  fore  legs.  Says  I 
Father,  what  on  airth  are  you  at?  I  vow,  I  feel 
ashamed  to  be  seen  with  such  a  catamaran  as  that, 
and  colt  looks  like  old  Satan  himself —  no  soul  would 
know  him.'  '  I  guess  I  warn't  born  yesterday,'  says  i 
he ;  '  let  me  be,  I  know  what  I  am  at.  I  guess  I'll 
slip  it  into  'em  afore  I've  done,  as  slick  as  a  whistle. 
I  guess  I  can  see  as  far  iuto  a  millstone  as  the  best 
on  'em.' 

'•  Well,  father  never  entered  the  horse  at  all,  but 
stood  by  and  seed  the  races,  and  the  winnin'  horse 
was  followed  about  by  the  matter  of  two  or  three 
thousand  people  a  praisin'  of  him  and  admirin'  him. 
They  seemed  as  if  they  never  had  seed  a  horse  afore. 
The  owner  of  him  was  all  up  on  eend  a  boastin'  of 
him,  and  a  stumpin'  the  course  to  produce  a  horse  to 
run  agin  him  for  four  hundred  dollars.  Father  goes 
up  to  him,  lookin'  as  soft  as  dough,  and  as  meechin' 
as  you  please,  and  says  he,  '  Friend,  it  ain't  every  one 
that  has  four  hundred  dollars;  it's  a  plaguy  sight  of 
money,  I  tell  you;  would  you  run  for  one  hundred 
dollars,  and  give  me  a  little  start?  if  you  would.  I'd 
try  my  colt  out  of  my  old  wagon  agin  you,  I  vow.' 
'  Let's  look  at  your  horse,'  says  he ;  so  away  they 
went,  and  a  proper  sight  of  people  arter  them  to  look 
at  colt,  and  wheu  they  seed  him.  they  sot  up  such  a 
larf,  I  felt  e'enamost  ready  to  cry  for  spite.  Says  1 
to  myself,  'What  can  possess  the  old  man  to  act 
arter  that  fashion  ?  I  do  believe  he  nas  taken  leave 
j)f  his  senses.'     '  You  needn't  larf,'  savs  father,  '  he's 


IM 


m 


106 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


smarter  than  he  looks;  our  minister's  old  horse, 
Captain  Jack,  is  reckoned  as  quick  a  beast  of  his  age 
as  any  in  our  location,  and  that  'ere  colt  can  beat 
him  for  a  lick  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  quite  easy ;  I 
seed  it  myself.'  Well,  they  larfed  ag'in  louder  than 
before,  and  says  father,  '  If  you  dispute  my  word, 
try  me;  what  odds  will  you  give?'  *Two  to  one,' 
says  the  owner,  'eight  hundred  to  four  hundred  dol- 
lars.' '  Well,  that's  a  great  deal  of  money,  ain't  it?' 
says  father  ;  '  if  I  was  to  lose  it  I'd  look  pretty  fool- 
ish, wouldn't  I  ?  How  folks  would  pass  their  jokes 
at  me  when  I  went  home  again.  You  wouldn't  take 
that  'ere  wagon  and  harness  for  fifty  dollars  of  it, 
would  you  ? '  says  he.  '  Well,'  says  the  other,  '  sooner 
than  disappoint  you,  as  you  seem  to  have  set  your 
mind  on  losing  your  money,  I  don't  care  if  I  do.' 

"  As  soon  as  it  was  settled,  father  drives  off  to  the 
stables,  and  then  returns  mounted,  with  a  red  silk 
pocket  handkerchief  tied  round  his  head,  and  colt  a 
looking  like  himself,  as  proud  as  a  nabob,  chock  full 
of  spring,  like  the  wire  eend  of  a  bran  new  pair 
of  trouser  galiusses.  One  said,  '  That's  a  plaguy 
nice  lookin'  colt  that  old  feller  has,  arter  all.'  '  That 
horse  will  show  play  for  it  yet,'  says  a  third;  and  I 
heard  one  feller  say,  '  I  guess  that's  a  regular  Yan- 
kee trick,  a  complete  take  in.'  They  had  a  fair 
Btart  for  it,  and  off  they  sot  ;  father  took  the  lead 
Hiid  kept  it,  and  won  the  race,  though  it  was  a  pretty 
tight  scratch,  for  father  was  too  old  to  ride  colt ;  he 
was  near  about  the  matter  of  seventy  years  old. 


THE  DANCING  MASTER  ABROAD. 


10' 


''  Well,  whf  n  the  colt  was  walked  round  after  the 
race,  tliere  was  an  aniazin'  crowd  arter  him,  and 
several  wanted  to  buy  him ;  but  says  father,  '  How 
am  I  to  get  home  without  him,  and  what  shall  1  do 
with  that  'ere  wagon  and  harness,  so  far  as  I  be  from 
Slickville?'  So  he  kept  them  in  talk,  till  he  felt 
their  pulses  pretty  well,  and  at  last  he  closed  wilii 
a  Southerner  for  seven  hundred  dollars,  and  we  re- 
turned, having  made  a  considerable  good  spec  of 
colt.  Says  father  to  me,  '  Sam,'  says  he,  '  you  seed 
the  crowd  a  follerin'  the  winnin'  horse,  whe:i  we 
came  there,  didn't  you  ?'  '  Yes,  sir,'  said  I,  '  I  did.' 
'  Well,  when  colt  beat  him,  no  one  follered  him  at 
all,  but  come  a  crowdin'  about  him.  That's  popu- 
larity,* said  he,  'soon  won,  soon  lost  —  cried  up  sky 
high  one  minute,  and  deserted  the  next,  or  run  down  ; 
colt  will  share  the  same  fate.  He'll  get  beat  afore 
long,  and  then  he's  done  for.  The  multitude  are 
always  fickle-minded.  Our  great  Washington  found 
that  out,  and  the  British  officer  that  beat  Bonaparte; 
the  bread  they  gave  him  turned  soui'  afore  he  got 
half  through  the  loaf  His  soap  had  hardly  stiffened 
afore  it  ran  right  back  to  lye  and  grease  ag'in. 

" '  I  was  sarved  the  same  way.  I  like  to  have 
missed  my  pension  ;  the  Committee  said  I  warn't  at 
Bunker's  Hill  at  all,  the  villains.  That  was  a  glo ' — 
Thinks  I,  old  boy,  if  you  once  get  into  that  'ere  field 
you'll  race  longer  than  colt,  a  plaguy  sight ;  you'll 
vun  clear  awav  to  the  fence  to  the  far  eend  afore 
you  stop ;  so  I  jist  cut  in  and  took  a  hand  myself 


^! 


b 


'  ■    i 


-<i) 
i  1^' 


■  %,i' 


108 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


'Yes,'  says  T,  'you  did  'em  father,  properly ;  that  old 
waoon  was  a  briirht  scheme  ;  it  led  *em  on  till  you 
got  'eni  on  the  rioht  spot,  didn't  it?'  Says  f.ither, 
'  There's  a  moral,  Satn,  in  everything  in  nalur.*  Never 
have  nothin'  to  do  with  elections  ;  you  see  the  vally 
of  popularity  in  the  case  of  that  'ere  horse :  sarve 
\  the  public  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  times,  and 
the  thousandth,  if  they  don't  agree  with  you,  they 
desart  and  abuse  you.  See  how  they  sarved  old 
John  Adams ;  see  how  they  let  Jefferson  starve  in 
his  old  aoe  ;  see  how  good  old  Munroe  like  to  have  cot 
right  into  jail,  after  his  term  of  President  was  up. 
They  may  talk  of  independence,'  says  father,  '  but 
Sam,  I'll  tell  y')u  what  independence  is'  —  and  he 
gave  his  hands  a  slap  agin  his  trousers  pocket,  and 
made  the  <io\d  eagles  he  won  at  the  race  all  iin<>le 
ag'in — '  That!^  says  he,  giving  them  another  wipe 
with  his  fist,  and  winkin',  as  much  as  to  saj',  Do  you 
hear  that,  my  boy !  '  that  I  call  independence*  He 
was  in  ^va^t  spirits,  the  old  man  ;  he  was  so  proud 
of  winnin'  the  race,  and  puttin'  the  leake  into  the 
New  Yorkers,  he  looked  all  dander.  '  Let  them 
great  hungry,  ill-favored,  long-legged  bitterns,'  says 
he  (only  he  called  them  by  another  name  that  don't 
Bound  quite  pretty),  '  from  the  outlandish  States  to 
Congress,  talk  about  independence ;  but  Sam,'  said 
he,  hittino  the  shin  rs  aii'in  till  he  made  them  dance 
right  up  on  eend  in  his  pocket,  ^  Hike  to  feel  it.' 

" '  No,  Sam,'  said  he,  '  line  the  pocket  well  first 
make  that  independent,  and  then  the  spirit  will  be 


/^ 


"I 


THE  DANCING  MASTER  ABROAD,       109 

like  a  horse  turned  out  to  grass  in  the  spring  for  the 
first  time;  lie's  all  he- d  and  tail,  a  snortin'  and 
kickin'  and  racin'  and  carrying  on  like  mad ;  it 
soon  gets  independent  too.  While  it's  in  the  stall 
it  may  hold  up,  and  paw,  and  whinny,  and  feel  as 
spry  as  anything,  but  the  leather  strap  keeps  it  to 
the  manjier,  and  the  lead  weii>ht  to  the  eend  of  it 
makes  it  hold  down  its  head  at  last.  No,'  says  he, 
'  here's  independence  ! '  and  he  gave  the  eagles  such 
a  drive  with  his  fist,  he  bust  his  pocket,  and  sent  a 
whole  raft  of  them  a  spinnin'  down  his  leg  to  the 
ground.  Says  I,  *  Father,*  and  I  swear  I  could 
hardly  keep  from  larfin',  he  looked  }-o  peskily  vexed, 
— '  Father,'  says  I,  '  I  guess  there's  a  moral  in  that 
'ere  too  :  Extremes  nary  way  are  none  o'  the  best.' 
'  Well,  well,'  says  he,  kinder  snappishly,  'I  suppose 
you're  half  right,  Sam,  but  we've  said  enough  about 
it ;  let's  drop  the  subject ;  and  see  if  I  have  picked 
'em  all  up,  for  my  eyes  are  none  of  the  best,  now  I'm 
near  hand  to  seventy.'  " 


( 


I 


i 


i| 


I    H 


II I 


«?i! 


m 


I ' 


CIIAPTKIl  XVI. 


MR.    SLICK  S    OPINION    OP  TFIK    BRITISH. 


'i! 


'1: .  ( 


"  What  success  had  you,"  said  I,  "  in  the  sale  of 
your  ck)cks  anioui;  the  Scotch  in  the  eastern  part 
of  tlie  Province?  Do  you  find  them  as  gullible  as 
the  Bluenoses?  " 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  have  heerd  tell  that  a 
Yankee  never  answers  one  question,  without  axing 
another,  haven't  you?  Did  you  ever  see  an  English 
stage-driver  make  a  bow?  because  if  you  hain't 
obsarved  it,  I  have,  and  a  queer  one  it  is,  I  swan. 
He  brings  his  right  arm  u[),  jist  across  his  face,  and 
passes  on,  with  a  knowin'  nod  of  his  head,  as  much 
as  to  say.  How  do  you  do  ?  but  keep  clear  o'  my 
wheels,  or  I'll  fetch  your  horses  a  lick  in  the  mouth 
as  sure  as  you're  born  :  jist  as  a  bear  puts  up  his 
paw  to  fend  off  the  blow  of  a  stick  from  his  nose. 
Well,  that's  the  way  I  pass  them  'ere  bare  breeched 
Scotchmen.  Lord,  if  thev  were  located  down  in 
thesd  here  (^'umberland  marshes,  how  the  mosquitoes 
would  tickle  them  up,  wouldn't  they  ?  They'd  set 
'em  scratchin'  thereabouts,  as  an  Irishman  does  his 
head,  when  he's  in  sarch  of  a  lie      Them  'ere  fel'ers 


4 


MR.  SLICK'S  OPINION. 


Ill 


cut  their  eye-teeth  afore  they  ever  sot  foot  in  this 
country,  I  expect.  When  they  jL^et  a  bawhee,  they 
know  what  to  do  with  it,  tiiat's  a  fact ;  they  open 
their  pouch  and  drop  it  in,  and  it's  got  a  Sj)ring  like 
a  fox-trap  ;  it  holds  fast  to  all  it  gets,  like  grim 
death  to  a  dead  nigger.  They  are  proper  skinflints, 
you  may  depend.  Oatmeal  is  no  great  shakes  at 
best;  it  ain't  even  as  oood  for  a  horse  as  real  valler 
Varjiinnv  corn  ;  but  I  iiuess  I  vvarn't  louu  in  findini* 
out  that  the  grits  hardly  pay  for  the  riddlin'.  No,  a 
Yankee  has  as  little  chance  among  them  as  a  Jew 
has  in  New  England  ;  the  sooner  he  clears  out  the 
better.  You  can  n(»  more  put  a  leake  into  them, 
than  you  can  send  a  chisel  into  teak  wood  ;  it  turns 
the  edge  of  the  tool  the  first  drive.  If  the  Blue- 
noses  knew  the  value  of  money  as  well  as  they  do, 
they'd  have  more  cash,  and  fewer  clocks  and  tin 
reflectors,  I  reckon. 

"Now,  it's  different  with  the  Irish;  they  never 
carry  a  puss,  for  they  never  have  a  cent  to  put  in 
it.  They  are  always  in  love  or  in  liquor,  or  else  in 
a  row  ;  they  are  the  merriest  shavers  I  ever  seed. 
Judge  Beeler, —  I  dare  say  you  have  heerd  tell  of 
him  ;  he's  a  funny  feller,  —  he  put  a  notice  over  his 
factory  gate  at  Lowell,  'No  cigars  or  Irishmen  ad- 
mitted within  these  walls  ; '  for,  said  he,  '  The  one 
will  set  a  flame  agoin'  amonix  mv  cottons,  and  t'other 
among  my  gals.  I  won't  have  no  such  inflammable 
and  dangerous  things  about  me  on  no  account.' 
When  the  British  wanted  our  folks  to  join  in  the 


n 


N  ! 


iiii 


THE   ClJJCKMAKElt. 


treaty  to  chock  the  wheels  of  tlie  shivo-tnule,  1 
recollect  hearin'  old  .lohii  Adams  say  we  had  ou^ht 
to  humor  them  ;  for,  says  he,  'They  siijjply  us  with 
labor  oil  easier  terms,  by  shippin'  out  the  Irish. 
Says  he,  '  They  work  better,  and  they  work  cheaper, 
nnd  they  don't  live  so  Ion*;.  The  blacks,  when  they 
are  past  worU,  han<^  on  forever,  and  a  proper  bill  of 
expense  they  be  ;  but  hot  weather  and  new  rum 
rub  out  the  j)oor  rates  for  t'other  ones.' 

"  The  Knjrlish  are  the  boys  for  tradin'  with  ; 
they  shell  out  their  cash  like  a  sheaf  of  wheat  in 
frosty  weather ;  it  flies  all  over  the  thrashin'  floor : 
but  then  they  are  a  cross-grained,  ungainly,  kickin' 
breed  of  cattle,  as  I  e'enamost  ever  seed.  Whoever 
gave  them  the  name  of  John  Hull,  knew  what  he 
was  about,  I  tell  you  ;  for  they  are  all  bull-necked, 
bull-headed  folks,  I  vow ;"  sulky,  ugly  tempered, 
vicious  critters,  a  pawin'  and  a  roarin'  the  whole 
time,  and  plaguy  onsafe  unless  well  watched.  They 
are  as  headstrong  as  mules,  and  as  conceited  as 
pjacocks." 

The  astonishment  with  which  I  heard  this  tirade 
against  my  countrymen  absorbed  every  feeling  of 
resentment.  I  listened  with  amazement  at  the 
perfect  composure  with  which  he  uttered  it.  He 
treated  it  as  one  of  those  self-evident  truths  that 
need  neither  proof  nor  apology,  but  as  a  thing  well 
known  and  admitted  by  all  mankind. 

"  There's  no  richer  sight  that  I  know  of,"  said  he, 
"  than  to  see  one  on  'em  when  he  first  lands  in  one 


MR.  SLICK'S  OPINION. 


113 


of  onr  rrrojit  cities.  He  swells  out  tis  l)i«;  as  a  bal- 
loon  ;  liis  skin  is  n^uly  to  i)urst  with  wind  —  a  re<;- 
ular  walkiiii:  bajj:  of  tjas  ;  and  he  prances  over  the 
pavement  liUti  a  bear  over  hot  iron  ;  a  j^reat  awk- 
ward hulk  of  a  feller  —  for  they  ain't  to  be  compared 
CO  the  French  in  manners  —  a  smirkin'  at  yon,  as 
nnich  as  to  say,  '  Look  li<'re,  Jonathan,  here's  an 
Englishman  ;  here's  a  boy  that's  got  blood  as  pure 
as  a  Norman  pirate,  and  lots  of  the  blunt  of  both 
kinds,  a  ]iocket  full  of  one,  and  a  mouthful  of 
t'other:  bean't  he  lovely?*  and  then  he  looks  as 
fierce  as  a  tig(;r,  as  much  as  to  say,  'Say  boo  to  a 
goose,  if  you  dare.' 

'•No,  I  believe  we  may  stump  the  univarse  ;  we 
improve  on  everything,  and  we  have  improved  on 
our  own  species.  You'll  search  one  while,  I  tell 
you,  afore  you'll  find  a  man  that,  take  him  by  and 
large,  is  equal  to  one  of  our  free  and  enlightened  cit- 
izens. He's  the  chap  that  has  both  speed,  wind,  and 
bottom  ;  lie's  clear  grit  —  ginger  to  the  backbone, 
you  may  depend.  It's  generally  allowed  there  ain't 
the  beat  of  them  to  be  found  anvwhere.  Snrv  as  a 
fox,  supple  as  an  eel,  and  cute  as  a  weasel.  Though 
I  say  it,  that  shouldn't  say  it,  they  fairly  take  the 
sbine  off  creation ;  they  are  actilly  equal  to  cash." 

He  looked  like  a  man  who  felt  that  he  had  ex- 
pressed bimself  so  aptly  and  so  well,  that  anything 
additional  would  only  weaken  its  effect;  he  there- 
fore changed  the  conversation  immediately,  by 
pointing  to  a  tree  at  some  Mttle  distance  from  the 
8 


I 


m 


i  '-i 


i 


114 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


house,  and  remarking  that  it  was  the  rock  maple  or 


sugar  tree. 


"  It's  a  pretty  tree,"  said  he,  "  and  a  profitable  one 
too  to  raise.  It  will  bear  tapping  for  many  years, 
though  it  gets  exhausted  at  last.  This  Province  is 
like  that  'ere  tree  :  it  is  tapped  till  it  begins  to  die 
at  the  top,  and  if  they  don't  drive  in  a  spile  and  stop 
the  everlastin'  flow  of  the  sap,  it  will  perish  alto- 
gether. All  the  money  that's  made  here,  all  the 
interest  that's  paid  in  it,  and  a  pretty  considerable 
portion  of  rent  too.  all  goes  abroad  for  investment, 
and  the  rest  is  sent  to  us  to  buy  bread.  It's  drained 
like  a  bog;  it  has  opened  and  covered  irenches  all 
through  it,  and  then  there's  others  to  the  foot  of  the 
upland  to  cut  off  the  springs. 

"  Now  you  may  make  even  a  bog  too  dry  ;  you 
may  take  the  moisture  out  to  that  degree  that  the 
verv  sile  becomes  dust,  and  blows  away.  The  Eng- 
lish  funds,  and  our  banks,  railroads,  and  canals,  are 
all  absorbing  your  capital  like  a  sponge,  and  will 
lick  it  up  as  fast  as  you  caA  make  it.  That  very 
bridge  we  heerd  of  at  Windsor  is  owned  in  New 
Brunswick,  and  will  pay  toll  to  that  Province.  The 
capitalists  of  Nova  Scotia  treat  it  like  a  hired  house: 
they  won't  keep  it  in  repair  ;  they  neither  paint  it 
to  preserve  the  boards,  nor  stop  a  leak  to  keep  the 
frame  from  rottin':  but  let  it  go  to  wrack,  sooner 
than  drive  a  nail  or  put  in  a  pane  of  glass.  '  It  will 
sarve  our  turn  out,'  they  say. 

"  There's  neither  spirit,  enterprise,  nor  patriotism 


St 


MR.  SLICK'S  OPINION, 


115 


here ;  but  the  whole  country  is  as  inactive  as  a  bear 
in  winter,  that  does  notliin'  but  scrop.tch  up  in  his 
den,  a  thinkin*  to  himself,  '  Well,  if  I  ain't  an  un- 
fortunate devil,  it's  a  pity  ;  1  have  a  most  splendid 
warm  coat  as  e'er  a  gentleman  in  these  here  woods, 
let  hin:  be  who  he  will ;  but  I  got  no  socks  to  my 
feet,  and  have  to  sit  for  everlastingly  a  suckin'  of 
my  paws  to  keep  'em  warm  ;  if  it  warn't  for  that,  1 
guess  I'd  make  some  o'  them  chaps  that  have  hoofs 
to  their  feet  and  horns  to  their  heads,  look  about 
them  pretty  sharp,  1  know.'  It's  dismal,  now  ain't 
it?  If  I  had  the  framin'  of  the  Governor's  message, 
if  I  wouldn't  show  'em  how  to  put  timber  together 
you  may  depend  ;  I'd  make  thern  scratch  their  heads 
and  stare,  I  know. 

"  I  went  down  to  Alatanzas  in  the  FuUon  steam- 
boai  once  ;  well,  it  was  the  first  of  the  kind  they 
ever  seed,  and  proper  scared  they  were  to  see  a 
vessel  without  sails  or  oars,  coin'  right  straight 
ahead,  n.ne  knots  an  hour,  in  the  very  wind's  eye, 
and  a  great  streak  of  smoke  arter  her  as  long  as  the 
tail  of  a  comet.  I  believe  they  thought  it  was  Old 
Nick  alive,  a  treatin'  himself  to  a  swim.  You  could 
see  the  niggers  a  clippin'  it  away  from  the  shore,  for 
dear  life,  and  the  soldiers  a  movin'  about  as  if  thev 
thought  that  we  were  agoin'  to  take  the  whole  coui- 
Iry.  Presently  a  little,  hcdf-starved,  orange-colored 
looking  Spanish  officer,  all  dressed  off  in  his  livery, 
as  fine  as  a  fiddle,  came  off  with  two  men  in  a  boat 
'JO  board  us.     Well,  we  yawed  once  or  twice,  and 


>  i  ! 


11 


116 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


} 


n 


motioned  to  him  to  keep  off  for  fear  he  should  get 
hurt ;  but  he  came  right  on  afore  the  wlieel,  and  I 
hope  I  may  be  shot  if  the  paddle  didn't  strike  the 
bow  of  the  boat  with  that  force,  it  knocked  up  the 
starn  like  a  piank  tilt,  when  one  of  the  boys  playing 
on  it  is  heavier  than  t'other,  and  chucked  him  right 
atop  of  tlie  wheel-house.  You  never  seed  a  fellow 
in  such  a  dunderment  in  your  life.  He  had  picked 
up  a  little  English  from  seein'  our  folks  there  so 
much,  and  when  he  got  up,  the  first  thing  he  said 
was,  '  Damn  all  sheenery,  I  say  ;  where's  my  boat?' 
and  he  looked  round  as  if  he  thought  it  had  jumped 
on  board  too.  '  Your  boat? '  said  the  captain,  '  why, 
I  expect  it's  gone  to  the  bottom,  and  your  men  have 
gone  down  to  look  arterit;'  for  we  never  seed  or 
heerd  tell  of  one  or  t'other  of  them  arter  the  boat 
was  struck.  Yes,  I'd  make  'em  stare  like  that  'ere 
Spanish  officer,  as  if  they  had  seed  out  of  their  eyes 
for  the  first  time.  Governor  Campbell  didn't  ex- 
pect to  see  such  a  country  as  this  when  he  came 
here,  I  reckon  ;  1  know  he  didn't. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  bov,  about  knee  hioh  or  so, 
and  lived  down  Connecticut  River,  mother  used  to 
say,  '  Sam,  if  you  don't  give  over  acting  so  like  Old 
Scratch,  I'll  send  you  off  to  Nova  Scotia,  as  sure  as 
you  are  born  ;  T  will,  I  vow.'  Well,  Lord,  how  that 
ere  used  to  frighten  me  ;  it  made  my  hair  stand 
right  up  on  eend,  like  a  cat's  back  when  she's 
ivrathy  ;  it  made  me  drop  it  as  quick  as  wink ;  like 
%  tin  nightcap  put  on  a  dipped  candle  agoin'  to  bed, 


MR.  SUCK'S  OPINION. 


117 


re  as 
that 
tand 
she's 
like 
bed 


t  put  the  fun  right  out.  Neighbor  Doarbrrne's 
darter  married  a  gentleman  to  Yarmoutb,  that 
Bpeculates  in  the  smuggling  line.  Weil,  when  slie 
went  on  board  to  sail  down  to  Nova  Scotia,  all  her 
folios  took  on  as  if  it  was  a  funeral ;  they  said  she 
was  goin'  to  be  buried  alive,  like  the  nuns  in  Porten- 
gale  that  f^et  a  frolickin',  break  out  of  the  pastwr* 
and  race  off,  and  get  catched  and  brought  back  ag'in. 
Says  the  old  Colonel,  her  father,  '  Deliverance,  njy 
dear,  I  would  sooner  foller  you  to  your  grave,  for 
that  would  be  an  eend  to  your  troubles,  tlian  to  see 
you  go  off  to  that  dismal  country,  that's  notliin'  but 
an  iceberg  ajrround;'  and  he  howled  as  loud  as  an 
Irishman  that  tries  to  wake  his  wife  when  she  is 
dead.  Awful  accounts  we  have  of  the  country,  that's 
a  fact ;  but  if  the  Province  is  not  so  bad  as  they 
make  it  out,  the  folks  are  a  thousand  times  worse. 

"You've  seen  a  flock  of  partridges  of  a  frosty 
mornin'  in  the  f\ill,  a  crowdin'  out  of  the  shade  to  a 
suntiy  spot,  and  huddlin'  up  there  in  the  warmth  ? 
Well,  tiie  Bluenoses  have  nothin'  else  to  do  half  tlie 
time  but  sun  tliemselves.  Whose  fault  is  that? 
Why,  it's  the  fault  of  the  legislature.  Thef/  don't 
encourage  iyJernal  improvement^  nor  the  investment  of 
capital  in  the  country ;  and  the  result  is  apathy,  in- 
Stctiony  and  poverty.  They  Sj>end  three  months  in 
Halifax,  and  what  do  tliev  do  ?  Father  oave  me  a 
dollar  once,  to  go  to  the  fair  at  Hartford,  and  when 
I  came  back,  says  he,  '  Sam,  what  have  you  got  to 
show  for  it  ? '     Now  I  ax  what  have  thev  to  show 


.^     ; 


.  1: 


118 


THE   (JL  0  a  KM  A  KER 


:  t 


for  their  three  months'  settinij?  Thev  mislead 
folks;  they  make  'em  believe  all  the  use  of  the 
Assembly  is  to  bark  at  Councillors.  Judges,  Hankers, 
and  such  cattle,  to  keep  'em  from  eatin'  up  tiie 
crops  ;  and  it  actilly  costs  more  to  feed  them  when 
they  are  watchin',  than  all  the  others  could  eat  if 
they  did  break  a  fence,  and  get  in.  Indeed,  some 
folks  say  they  are  the  most  breachy  of  the  two,  and 
ought  to  go  to  pound  themselves.  If  their  fences 
are  good,  them  hungry  cattle  couldn't  break  through  ; 
and  if  they  ain't,  they  ought  to  stake  'em  up,  and 
withe  them  well;  but  iCs  no  use  to  make  fences  unless 
the  land  is  cultivated.  If  I  see  a  farm  all  gone  to 
wrack,  I  say.  Here's  bad  husbandry  and  bad  manage- 
ment; and  if  I  see  a  Province  like  this,  of  great 
capacity,  and  great  natural  resources,  poverty- 
stricken.  I  say,  There's  bad  legislation. 

''  No,"  said  he,  with  an  air  of  more  seriousness 
than  I  had  yet  observed  ;  *'  hoia  much  it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted, that,  laying  aside  personcd  attacks  and  petty 
jecdousies,  they  luould  not  unite  as  one  man,  and  ivith 
one  mind  and  one  heart  apply  themselves  sedulously 
to  the  interned  improvement  and  development  of  this 
beautiful  Province.  Its  vcdue  is  utterly  unknown, 
either  to  the  general  or  local  government,  and  the  only 
persons  who  duly  appreciate  it  are  the  Yankees" 


p. 


*     ♦ 


'i  i 


CHAPTER  xvir. 


A    YANKEE  HANDLE   FOR    A    HALIFAX    BLADE. 


"I  MET  a  man  this  niorninV'  said  the  Clockmaker, 
'■*  from  Halifax,  a  real  conceited  lookin'  critter  as 
yon  e'enamost  ever  seed,  all  shines  and  didoes.  He 
looked  as  if  he  had  picked  np  his  airs  arter  some  offi- 
cer of  the  resjilars  had  worn  'em  ont  and  cast  'em  off. 
They  sot  on  liin\  like  second-hand  clothes,  as  if  they 
hadn't  heen  made  for  him  and  didn't  exactly  fit.  He 
looked  fine,  but  awkward,  like  a  captain  of  militia 
when  he  gets  his  uniform  on,  to  play  sodger ;  a 
thinkin'  himself  mighty  handswm.  and  that  all  the 
world  is  a  lookin'  at  him.  He  marched  up  and 
down  afore  the  street  door  like  a  peacock,  as  large 
as  life  and  twice  as  natural  ;  he  had  a  riding -whip 
in  his  hand,  and  every  now  and  then  struck  it  agin 
his  t'\igh,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Ain't  that  a  splendid 
'eg  for  a  boot,  now?  Won't  I  astcmish  the  Amherst 
folks,  that's  all?'  Thinks  I,  'You  are  a  pretty 
blade,  ain't  you?  I'd  like  to  fit  a  Yankee  handle  on 
to  you,  that's  a  fact.'  When  J  came  up,  he  held  up 
his  head  near  about  as  hish  as  a  shot  factory,  and 
stood  with  his  fists  on  his  hips,  and  eyed  me  from 


I 


^%- 


if 


li\ 


^    4 


120 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


head  to  foot,  as  a  shakin'  Quaker  does  a  town  lady 
as    much   as  to  say,   What  a  queer  critter  you  be ! 
that's  toLjiicry  I  never  seed  afore  ;  you're  some  car- 
nal minded  maiden,  thai's  sartain. 

"•  Weil,'  says  he  to  me,  witli  tiie  air  of  a  n)an  that 
chucks  a  cent  into  a  bef;<;ar's  hat,  'A  fine  day  this, 
sir.'  'Do  you  actillv  tiiink  so,' said  I?  and  I  gave 
it  the  real  Connecticut  drawl.  '  Why,'  said  he,  quite 
short,  'if  I  didn't  think  so,  I  wouldn't  say  so.' 
'  Well,'  says  I,  '  I  don't  know,  but  if  I  did  think  so,  I 
guess  I  wouldn't  say  so.'  *  Why  not  ? '  says  he. 
'  Because,  1  expect,'  says  I,  '  any  fool  could  see  that 
as  well  as  me ; '  and  then  I  stared  at  him,  as  much 
as  to  say,  '  Now  if  you  like  that  'ere  swap,  I  am 
ready  to  trade  with  you  a;n'io  as  soon  as  you  like.' 
AVell,  he  turned  v\^\\i  round  on  his  heel  and  walked 
off,  a  whistlin'  Yankee  Doodle  to  himself.  He 
looked  jist  like  a  man  that  finds  whistlin'  a  plaguy 
sight  easier  than  thin  kin'. 

"  Presently  I  heerd  him  ax  the  groom  who  that 
*ere  Yankee  lookin'  feller  was.  'That?'  said  the 
groom,  'why,  I  guess  it's  Mr.  Slick.'  '  Sho ! '  Sidd 
he, '  how  vou  talk!  What!  Slick  the  Clockmakei- ' 
Why,  it  ain't  possible  ;  I  wish  I  had  a  known  that  'ere 
afore,  I  declare,  for  I  have  a  great  curiosity  to  jfee 
him  ;  folks  say  he  is  amazin'  clever  feller  that ; '  and 
ho  turned  and  stared,  as  if  it  was  old  Hickory  him- 
self. Then  he  walked  round  and  about  like  a  pi^ 
round  the  fence  of  a  potato  field,  a  watchin*  for  a 
chance  to  cut  in  ;  so,  thinks  I,  I'll  jist  give  him  sor^' 


: 


I 


A    YANKEE   HANDLE. 


121 


gave 


: 


tiling  to  talk  about  when  he  gets  back  to  tlie  city  ; 
I'll  i\x  a  Yankee  handle  on  to  him  in  no  time. 

"'How's  times  to  Halifax,  sir,'  said  I.  'Better,' 
says  he,  '  much  better :  business  is  done  on  a  surer 
bottom  than  it  was,  and  thin<js  look  briiiht  aii'in.' 
*  So  does  a  candle,  says  I,  '  jist  afore  it  goes  out ;  it 
burns  up  ever  so  high,  and  then  sinks  right  down, 
and  leaves  nothin'  behind  but  grease,  and  an  ever- 
lastin'  bad  smell.  I  guess  they  don't  know  how  to 
feed  their  lamp,  and  it  can't  burn  long  on  nothin*. 
No,  sir,  the  jig  is  up  with  Halifax,  and  it's  all  their 
own  fault.  If  a  man  sits  at  his  door  and  sees  stray 
cr.ttle  in  his  field,  a  eatin'  up  of  his  crop,  and  his 
neighbors  a  eatin'  off  his  grain,  and  won't  so  much 
as  go  and  drive  'em  out,  why,  I  should  say  it  sarves 
him  rijiht.' 

"  '  I  don't  exactly  understand,  sir,'  said  he.  Thinks 
I,  it  would  be  strange  if  you  did,  for  I  never  see  one 
of  your  folks  yet  that  could  understand  a  hawk  from 
a  handsaw.  '  Well,  said  I,  '  I  will  tell  you  what  T 
mean  :  draw  a  line  from  Cape  Sable  to  Cape  Cansoo, 
right  through  t1ie  Province,  and  it  will  split  it  into 
two,  this  way;'  and  I  cut  an  apple  into  two  halves; 
'  now,'  says  I,  'the  worst  half,  liivc  the  rotten  half  of 
the  apple,  belongs  to  Halifax,  and  the  other  sound 
half  belonors  to  St.  John.  Your  side  of  the  Province 
on  the  seacoast  is  all  stone  ;  T  never  seed  such  a 
proper  sight  of  rocks  in  my  life  ;  it's  enough  to  starve 
»  rabbit.  Well,  t'other  side,  on  the  P>ay  of  Fundy, 
<s  a  superfine  country;  there  ain't  the  beat  of  it  to 


1, 


i     I 


122 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


be  found  atiywliere.  Now,  woulcln't  the  folks  living 
awiiy  np  to  tlio  IJay  !>«  pretty  iools  t<)  u;o  to  Ilaiifax, 
when  tliey  can  go  to  St.  Jolin  willi  half  tlu;  trouble? 
St.  Joliii  is  the  natural  capital  of  the  Uay  of  Fundy ; 
it  will  be  the  lar<jest  citv  in  America,  next  to  New 
York.  It  has  an  ininieuse  back  country  as  big  as 
Great  Britain,  a  first  chop  river,  and  auiazin'  sharp 
folks,  most  as  cule  as  the  Yankees  ;  it's  a  splendid 
location  for  business.  Well,  they  draw  all  the  |)rod- 
nce  of  the  Hay  shores,  and  where  the  produce  goes, 
the  sup[)Iies  return  ;  it  will  take  the  whole  trade  of 
the  Province.  I  guess  your  rich  folks  will  find 
they've  burnt  their  fingers  ;  they've  ])ut  their  foot  in 
it,  that's  a  fact.  Houses  without  tenants,  wharves 
without  shipj)ing,  a  town  without  people  —  what  a 
grand  investment!.  If  you  have  any  loose  dollars, 
let  'em  out  on  mortgage  in  Halifax,  that's  a  security; 
keep  clear  of  the  country  for  your  life ;  the  people 
may  run,  but  the  town  can't.  No,  take  away  ti)e 
troops,  and  you're  done ;  you'll  sing  the  dead  march 
fi)lks  did  at  Louisburg  and  Shelburne.  AVhy  yon 
hain't  got  a  simple  thinij  worth  havin',  but  a  ao'>d 
harbor,  and  as  for  that  the  coast  is  full  of 'em.  You 
haven't  a  pine  log,  a  spruce  board,  or  a  refuse  shin- 
gle ;  you  neither  raise  wheat,  oats,  or  hay,  nor  never 
•an;  you  have  no  staples  on  airth.  unless  it  be  them 
iron  ones  for  the  padlocks  in  Bridewell.  You've 
^owed  pride  and  reaped  poverty  ;  take  care  of  your 
crop,  for  it's  worth  harvestin'.  You  have  no  rivei 
and  no  country  ;  what  in  the  name  of  fortin'  have 
vou  to  trad(»  on  '  ' 


A    YANKI'lK   UANDIJC. 


123 


***  But/ said  he  (aiul  lie  sliovved  tlu;  wMtes  of  his 
eyes  like  a  wall-eyed  horst*),  'but,'  said  he,  '  JNlr. 
Slick,  how  is  it,  theu,  Halifax  ever  orcw  at  all? 
hasu't  it  ^ot  what  it  always  had  ?  it's  uo  worse  thau 
it  was.'  'I  jruess,'  saiil  I,  'that  pole  aiu't  stnnijj; 
enough  to  bear  you,  ueilher;  if  you  trust  to  that, 
vou'll  b(i  into  the  brook  as  sure  as  vou  are  born  ; 
vou  once  had  the  trade  of  the  whole  Province,  l)iit 
St.  John  has  run  off  with  that  now  ;  vou've  lost  all 
but  vour  trade  in  blueberries  and  rabbits  with  tiie 
niggers  at  llamuiond  Plains.  YoiCce  lost  your  cus- 
tomers;  your  rivals  haoe  a  better  stand  for  business  — 
theyve  (jot  the  corner  store ;  four  yreat  streets  ntett 
there^  and  it's  near  the  marhet  slip.' 

"Well,  he  stared  ;  says  he,  '  I  believe  you're  right, 
but  1  never  thouiiht  of  that  afore.'  Thinks  1,  no- 
body'd  ever  suspect  you  of  the  trick  of  thinkin'  that 
ever  I  heer'd  tell  of.  '  Some  of  our  great  men,'  said 
he,  '  laid  it  all  to  your  folks'  selling  so  many  clocks 
and  Polyglot  Bibles  ;  they  say  you  have  taken  off  a 
horrid  sight  of  money.'  '  Did  they,  indeed  ?  '  said  T ; 
*  well,  I  guess  it  ain't  pins  and  needles  that's  the 
expense  of  housekeepin',  it  is  something  more  costly 
than  that'  '  Well,  some  folks  say  it's  the  banks,' 
says  he.  '  Better  still,'  s:;ys  I ;  '  perhaps  you've  hearn 
tell,  too,  that  gr jasin'  the  axle  makes  a  gig  haider  to 
draw,  for  there's  jist  about  as  nuich  sense  in  that. 
Well,  then,' says  he, 'others  say  it's  snuigglin'  has 
made  us  so  poor.'  '  That  guess,  said  I, '  is  most  as 
^ood  as  t'other  one ;  whoever  found  out  that  secret 


t 


J 


•i 
V 


124 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


oiiglit  to  get  :i  patent  lor  it,  for  it's  worth  kiiowin' 
Then  the  comUiy  h:is  ^rown  poiM'er,  hadn't  it,  he- 
causo  it  has  bought  clieaper  this  year  tiiaii  it  did  the 
year  before?  Wliv,  your  folks  are  cute  chaps,  I 
vow;  tliey'd  puzzle  a  PhihuUilphia  hiwyer,  tliey  are 


so  ainaziu 


k 


UOWUI 


aid  I 


1   1) 


le,  and   iu;  ru 


iblH'd 


his  hands  and  snTded,  hke  a  vounij  th)ctor  when  he 
gets  his  first  patient ;  '  ah,'  said  he,  '  if  tiie  timber 
duties  are  altered,  down  comes  St.  John,  bodv  and 


breeciies  ;  it's  built  on  a  poor  foundation — ^  it's  all 
show;  they  are  specuiatin'  like  mad;  they'll  ruin 
themselves.'  Says  I,  '  If  you  wait  till  they're  dead 
for  your  fortin',  it  will  be  one  while,  I  tt^ll  you,  afore 
you  pocket  the  shiners,  li's  no  joke  waitin'  for  a 
dead  nuui's  shoes.  Suppose  an  old  feller  of  eighty 
was  to  sav,  "  When  that  'ere  \oun<i  feller  dies,  I'm  to 
inherit  his  property,"  what  would  you  thiid<  ?  Why,  I 
guess  you'd  thiid\  he  was  an  old  fool.  No^  sir^  if  the 
EiKjJish  dont  ivftnt  thfir  finiher,  we  do  uutnt  it  «dl ;  we 
have  used  ourn  up  ;  we  hiiat  got  a  stick  even  to  whit- 
le.  if  the  l>ritish  don't  offer  we  will,  and  St.  John, 
like  a  dear  little  weeping  widow,  will  dry  up  her 
tears  and  take  to  frolickin'  ag'in,  and  accept  it  right 
off. 

"  '  There  isn't  at  this  moment  such  a  location  hardly 
in  America,  as  St.  John  ;  for  besides  all  its  other 
advantaores  it  has  this  fjreat  one:  its  onlv  rival,  Hal- 
ifax,  h  IS  got  a  dose  of  opium  that  will  send  it  snor- 
ing out  of  the  world,  like  a  feller  who  falls  asleep  on 
the  ice  of  a  winter's  night.     It  has  been  asleep  so 


A   YANKEE   HANDLE. 


12.5 


lonjT,  I  nctilly  think  it  never  will  wuke.  It's  an  ojisy 
deulli,  too :  you  ni;iy  rouse  them  up,  if  vou  iiive,  hut 
I  vow  I  won't.  I  once  hroui^lit  a  fi'lhu-  to  thiit  was 
drowned,  and  one  niijjht  he  j^(»l  druniv  aiul  <|uilt<'(l 
nie  ;  I  couhhi't  walk  for  a  wetdi.  Says  I,  "  You're 
the  last  cliap  Til  ever  save  from  (h'owuini^  in  all  my 
horn  days,  if  that's  all  tlie  thanks  I  j^ct  for  it."  No, 
sir,  Halifax  has  lost  the  run  of  its  custom.  Who 
docs  Yarmouth  trade  with  ?  St.  John.  Who  does 
Annapolis  County  trade  with  ?  St.  .Fohn.  Who  do 
all  the  folks  on  the  liasin  of  Mines,  and  Hay  Shore, 
trade?  with?  St.  John.  Who  does  Cumherland 
trade  with  ?  St.  John.  Well,  Pictou,  Lunenhurix, 
and  Liverpool  supply  themselves,  and  the  rest,  that 
ain't  worth  havin',  trade  with  Halifax.  They  take 
down  a  fi^.w  half-starved  l)igs,  old  vit(U'an  j^ecse,  and 
lonix-leofiied  fowls,  some  ram  mutton  and  touuh  heef, 
and  swap  them  for  tea,  su^ar,  and  such  little  notions 
for  their  old  women  to  hoiue  ;  while  the  railroads 
and  canals  of  St.  Jolin  are  coin'  to  cut  off  vour  Gulf 
Shore  trade  to  Miramichi,  and  aloni;  there.  Flies 
vive  in  the  summer  and  die  in  wiiiter:  you're  jist 
as  noisy  in  war  as  those  little  critters,  but  you  sing 
small  in  peace. 

"  '  No,  you're  done  for  ;  you  are  up  a  tree,  you  may 
depend  ;  pride  must  fall.     Your  town  is  like  a  hall 
room  arter  a  dance.      The  folks  have  eat,  drank,  and 
trolickeA,  and  left  an  en. pty  house,  the  lamps  and 
\ian(Tings  are  left,  but  the  people  are  <jone.' 

^ '  Is  there  no  remedy  for  this  ?  *  said  he  ;  and  he 


'i 
1 


1 

j- 

•  ( 

■ 

' 

9, 

:M 

J 

\\ 

1 

I 


126 


rtlK   CLOCKMAKEil 


.ookcil  as  wild  as  a  Clierokee  Iiulifm.  Thinks  I,  the 
haudlt:  is  lilted  on  [)i()per  tii^ht  liow,  '  Well.'  says  1, 
'  when  a  man  has  a  cold,  he  had  on<;iit  to  look  oui 
pretty  sharp,  afore  it  gets  seated  on  his  lungs  ;  if  he 
don't,  he  gets  into  a  galiopin'  consumption,  and  it's  a 
gone  goose  with  him.  Ther?is  a  remedy,  if  applied 
in  time  :  inake  a  railroad  to  Minas  Basin,  and  you 
have  a  w ay  for  your  cusfomersto  get  to  you,  and  a  con- 
veyance for  your  goods  to  them.  When  I  was  in  New 
York  last,  a  cousin  of  mine,  Ilezekiah  Slick,  said  to 
me,  "  I  do  believe,  Sam,  I  shall  be  ruined  :  I've  lost 
all  my  custom  ;  they  are  widening  an  1  improving 
the  streets,  and  there's  .-^^  many  carts  and  people  to 
work  in  it,  folks  can't  come  to  my  shop  to  trade ; 
what  on  airtli  shall  I  do  ?  and  V\w  i)ayin'  a  dreadful 
high  rent  too."  "  Stop,  Ki,"  said  I,  •'  when  the  street  is 
all  finished  off  and  slicked  up,  they'll  all  come  back 
aij'in,  and  a  whole  raft  more  on  'em  too;  you'll  sell 
twice  as  nuich  as  ever  you  did ;  you'll  put  off 
a  proper  swad  of  goods  next  year,  you  may  de- 
pend;" and  so  he  did,  he  made  money  hand  ovek' 
hand.  A  railroad  will  bring  back  your  customers, 
if  done  right  off;  but  wait  till  trade  has  made  new 
channels,  a. id  fairly  gets  settled  in  them,  and  you'll 
never  divart  it  a«r'in  to  all  eternity.  When  a  feller 
waits  till  a  gal  ct^ts  married.  I  ouess  it  will  be  too 
late  to  [)op  the  question  then. 

"  '  St.  John  miist  go  ahead,  at  any  rate ;  you  way, 
if  you  choose,  but  you  nuist  exert  yourselves,  I  tell 
you.     If  a  man  has  only  one  leg,  and  wants  to  walk, 


A    YANKEE    rjANDLE. 


127 


he  must  get  an  artificial  one.  If  you  have  no  river, 
make  a  railroad,  and  that  will  supply  its  place.' 
But,'  says  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  people  say  it  never  will 
pay  in  the  world  ;  they  say  it's  as  mad  a  scheme  as 
the  canal.'  '  Do  they,  indeed?'*  says  1 ;  'send  them 
to  me,  then,  and  I'll  fit  the  handle  on  to  them  in  tu 
tu's.  I  say  it  will  pay,  and  the  best  proof  is,  our 
folks  will  take  tu  tlui'os  of  the  stock.  Did  you  ever 
hear  any  one  else  hut  your  folks  ax  whether  a  dose 
of  medicine  would  [)ay  when  ii  was  given  to  save 
life?  If  that  everlastin'  lon<j^  Erie  Canal  can  secure 
to  New  York  the  supply  of  that  far  off  country,  most 
t'other  side  of  creation,  surely  a  railroad  of  forty-five 
miles  can  give  you  the  trade  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy. 
A  railroad  will  go  from  Halifax  to  Windsor,  and 
make  them  one  town,  easier  to  send  goods  from  one 
to  t'other  than  from  Governor  Campbell's  house  to 
Admiral  Cockbnrn's.  A  bridge  makes  a  town,  a 
river  makes  a  town,  a  canal  makes  a  town  ;  but  a 
railroad  is  bridge,  river,  thoroughfare,  canal,  all  in 
one :  what  a  vvhappin'  large  olace  that  would  make, 
wouldn't  it  ?  It  would  be  the  dandv,  that's  a  fact. 
No,  when  you  go  back,  take  a  piece  of  chalk,  and 
the  first  dark  night,  write  on  every  door  in  Halifax, 
in  large  letters  —  a  railroad;  and  if  they  don't  know 
.lie  meanin'  of  it,  says  you,  "  It's  a  Yankee  word  ;  if 
you'll  go  to  Sam  Slick,  the  Ciockmaker  "  (the  chap 
that  fixed  a  Yankee  handle  on  to  a  Halifax  blade,'  — 
and  I  made  him  a  scrape  of  my  leg,  as  much  as  to 
say  That's  you !)  '  "  every  man  that  buys  a  Clock 
shall  liear  all  about  a  Kailroad. 


1: 
i; 


■A 

\  0 


I  M 


■  1 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE    GRAHAMITI':    AND    THE    IRISH    PILOT. 


jf 


■1 


"  I  THINK,"  said  I,  "  this  is  a  happy  country,  Mr 
Slick.  The  people  are  fortunately  all  of  one  origin 
there  are  no  national  jealousies  to  divide,  and  no 
very  violent  politics  to  agitate  them.  They  appear 
to  be  cheerful  and  contented,  and  are  a  civil,  good- 
natured,  hospitable  race.  Considering  tlie  unsettled 
state  of  almost  every  part  of  the  world,  I  think  I 
would  as  soon  cast  my  lot  in  Nova  Scotia  as  in  any 
part  1  know  of." 

"  It's  a  clever  country,  you  may  depend,"  said  he, 
"  a  very  clever  country ;  full  of  mineral  wealth, 
aboundin'  in  superior  water  privileges  and  noble 
harbors,  a  large  part  of  it  prime  land,  and  it  is  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  fisheries.  But  the  folks  put 
me  in  mind  of  a  sect  in  our  country  they  call  the 
Grahamites:  they  eat  no  meat,  and  no  exciting  food, 
and  drink  nothin'  stronger  than  water.  Thev  call  it 
Philosophy  (and  that  is  such  a  pretty  word  it  has 
made  fools  of  more  folks  than  them  afore  now),  but 
I  i;all  it   tarnation    nonsense.     I  once    travelled  af 


TUE  GRAHAMITE  AND  THE  IRISH  PILOT.   129 


throiifjh  the  State  of  Maine  with  one  of  them  'ere 
clhips.  He  was  as  thin  as  a  whippin'  post.  His 
okin  looked  like  a  blown  bladder  arler  some  of  the 
air  had  leaked  out,  kinder  wrinkled  and  rumpled 
like,  and  his  eye  as  dim  as  a  lamp  that's  livin'  on 
short  allowance  of  ile.  lie  put  me  in  mind  of  a  pair 
of  kitchen  tongs,  all  legs,  shaft,  and  head,  and  no 
belly  ;  a  real  gander-gutted  lookin'  critter,  as  holler 
as  a  bamboo  walkin'  cane,  and  twice  as  yaller.  He 
acti!ly  looked  as  if  he  had  been  picked  off  a  rack  at 
sea,  and  dragged  through  a  gimlet-hole.  He  was  a 
lawyer.  Thinks  I,  the  Lord  a  massy  on  your  clients, 
you  hungry,  half-starved  lookin'  critter  you,  you'll 
eat  'em  up  alive  as  sure  as  the  Lord  made  Moses. 
You  are  just  the  chap  to  strain  at  a  gnat  and  swallow 
■ix  camel,  tank,  shank,  and  flank,  all  at  a  gulp. 

"  Well,  when  we  came  to  an  inn,  and  a  beefsteak 
was  sot  afore  us  for  dinner,  he'd  say,  '  O,  that  is  too 
good  for  me,  it's  too  exciting;  all  fat  meat  is  dis- 
eased meat :  give  me  some  bread  and  cheese.' 
'  Well,'  I'd  say,  '  I  don't  know  what  you  call  too 
jxood,  but  it  ain't  (jood  enouoh  for  me,  for  I  call  it  as 
toujjh  as  laushonsr,  and  that  will  bear  chawincf  all 
day.  When  I  liquidate  for  my  dinner,  I  like  to  get 
(ibout  the  best  that's  goin',  and  I  ain't  a  bit  too  well 
pleased  if  I  don't.'  Exciting,  indeed !  thinks  L 
Lord,  I  should  like  to  see  you  excited,  if  it  was  only 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  What  a  temptin'  lookin' 
sritter  you'd  be  among  the  gals,  w  didn't  you? 
Why,  you  look  like  a  subject  the  doctor  boys  had 
0 


I 


«      . 


'; .   I 


i 


!  \ 


.ll 


130 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


I 'I 


dropped  on  the  road  arter  they  Lad  d'.g  you  up,  and 
had  cut  stick  and  run  for  it. 

"  Well,  when  tea  came,  he  said  the  same  thing: 
'  It's  too  exciting ;  give  nie  some  water,  do  ;  that's 
follerin'  the  law  of  natur'.'  '  Well,'  says  I,  '  if  that's 
the  case,  you  ought  to  eat  beef.'  '  Why,'  says  he, 
'  how  do  you  make  out  that  'ere  proposition  ? ' 
'  Why,'  says  I,  '  if  drinking  water,  instead  of  tea,  is 
natur',  so  is  eatin'  grass  according  to  natur';  now  all 
flesh  is  grass,  we  are  told,  so  you  had  better  eat  that 
and  call  it  vegetable  ;  like  a  man  I  once  seed,  who 
fasted  on  fish  on  a  Fridav,  and  when  he  had  done, 
whipped  a  leg  o'  mutton  into  the  oven,  and  took  it 
out  fish.  Says  he,  "It's  'changed  plaice*  that's 
all;"  and  '•"plaice'"  ain't  a  bad  fish.  The  Catholics 
fast  enough,  gracious  knows,  but  then  they  fast  on  a 
great  rousin'  big  salmon,  at  two  dollars  and  forty 
cents  a  pound,  and  lots  of  old  Madeira  to  make  it 
float  light  on  the  stomach ;  there's  some  sense  in 
mortify'ng  the  appetite  arter  that  fashion,  but  plaguy 
little  in  your  way.  No,'  says  I,  '  friend,  you  may 
talk  about  natur'  as  you  please ;  I've  studied  natur' 
all  my  life,  and  I  vow  if  your  natur'  could  speak  out, 
it  would  tell  you  it  don't  over  half  like  to  be  starved 
ai  ter  that  plan.  If  you  knowed  as  much  about  the 
marks  of  the  mouth  as  I  do,  you'd  know  that  you 
have  carniverous  as  well  as  graniverous  teeth,  and 
that  natur'  meant  by  that,  you  should  eat  most  any- 
thing that  'ere  doorkeeper,  your  nose,  would  give  a 
ticket  to,  to  pass  into  your  mouth      Father  rode  ? 


THE  GRAHAMITE  AND  THE  IRISH  PILOT.  131 


race  at  New  York  coarse,  when  he  was  near  hand 
to  seventy,  —  and  that's  more  nor  you'll  do,  I 
guess,  —  and  he  eats  as  hearty  as  a  turkey-cock ; 
and  he  never  confined  himself  to  water  neither,  when 
he  could  get  anything  convened  him  better.  Says 
he,  *'  Sam,  grandfather  Slick  used  to  say  iijcre  was 
an  old  proverb  in  Yorkshire,  '  A  full  belly  makes  a 
strong  back,'  and  1  guess  if  you  try  it,  natur'  will 
tell  you  so  too."  If  ever  you  go  to  Connecticut,  jist 
cull  into  father's,  and  he'll  give  you  a  real  right  down 
genuine  New  England  breakfast,  and  if  that  don't 
happify  your  heart,  then  my  name's  not  Sam  Slick. 
It  will  make  you  feel  about  among  the  stiffest,  I  tell 
you.  It  will  blow  your  jacket  out  like  a  pig  at  sea. 
You'll  have  to  shake  a  reef  or  two  out  of  your  waist- 
ban's  and  make  good  stowage,  I  guess,  to  carry  it  all 
under  hatches.  There's  nothin'  like  a  good  pastur* 
to  cover  the  ribs,  and  make  the  hide  shine,  depend 
on't.' 

"  Now  this  Province  is  like  that  'ere  Grahamite 
lawyer's  beef,  —  it's  too  good  fo"  the  folks  that's  in 
it ;  they  either  don't  avail  its  value  or  won't  use  it, 
because  work  ain't  arter  their  '  law  of  natur'.'  As 
you  say,  they  are  quiet  enough  (there's  worse  folks 
than  the  Bluenoses,  too,  if  you  cotne  to  that),  ar»d  so 
they  had  ought  to  be  quiet,  for  they  have  nothin'  to 
\ight  about.  As  for  politics,  they  have  nothin'  to 
desarve  thi  name ;  but  they  talk  about  it,  and  a 
ulaguy  sight  of  nonsense  they  do  talk,  too. 

"  Now  with  us  the  country  is  divided  into  two  par 


«  ■ 

|: 

r 

It 


Hi' 


t 

ill 


w 


182 


THE   CLOCKMAKEIi. 


iies,  of  the  mamtr.oth  breed, —  the  ins  :inrl  the  outs 
he.  adininistrdtion  and  tlie  opfmsition.  Hut  whero's 
■^lie  administration  here?  Where's  the  War  Office, 
'he  Foreign  Office,  and  the  Home  Office?  wliere's 
the  Secretary  of  the  Navy?  where's  the  State  Hank? 
Where's  the  Ambassadors  and  Diplomatists  (them 
are  the  boys  to  wind  off*  a  snarl  of  ravellins  as  slick 
as  if  it  were  on  a  reel),  and  where's  that  Ship  of 
State,  fitted  rp  all  the  way  from  the  forecastle  clean 
up  to  the  starn-post,  chock  full  of  good  snug  berths, 
handsomely  found  and  furnished,  tier  over  tier,  one 
above  another,  as  thick  as  it  can  hold?  That's  a 
helm  worth  handlin',  I  tell  you  ;  I  don't  wonder  that 
folks  mutiny  below,  and  fight  on  the  decks  above  for 
it;  it  makes  a  plaguy  uproar  the  whole  time,  and 
keeps  the  passengers  for  everlastingly  in  a  state  of 
alarm  for  fear  they'd  do  mischief  by  bustin'  the  biler, 
a  runniu'  aground,  or  gettin'  foul  of  some  other 
craft. 

''  This  Province  is  better  as  it  is,  quieter  and  hap- 
pier llir ;  they  have  berths  enough  and  big  enough  ; 
they  should  hd  careful  not  to  increase  'ein  ;  and  if 
they  were  to  du  it  over  ag'in,  perhaps  they'd  be  as 
well  with  fewer.  They  have  two  parties  here,  the 
Tory  party  and  the  Opposition  party,  and  both  on  'em 
run  to  extremes.  Them  radicals,  savs  one,  are  for 
evelin'  all  down  to  their  own  level,  though  not  a  peg 
*ower;  that's  their  gauge,  jist  down  to*  their  own 
notch  and  no  further ;  and  ihev'd  asitate  the  whole 
country  to  obtain  that  object,  for  if  a  man  can't  grow 


rnE  GRAHAMITE  AND  THE  IRISH  PILOT.   133 


hap- 


to  be  as  tall  as  his  neighbor,  if  lie  cuts  a  tew  inches 
off  him,  why,  then  thev  are  both  of  one  liei<'hih. 
They  are  a  most  dangerous,  disaffected  people  ;  they 
are  etarnully  appealin'  to  tiie  worst  [):issions  of  tlie 
mob.  Well,  says  t'otlier,  tlurm  aristocrats,  they'll 
ruinate  the  country;  they  spend  the  whole  revenue 
on  thei^iselves.  What  with  liankers.  Councillors, 
Judges,  Bishops,  and  Public  Officers,  and  a  whole 
tribe  of  Lawyers,  as  hungry  as  hawks,  and  jist  aljout 
as  marciful,  the  country  is  devoured,  as  if  there  was 
a  flock  of  locusts  a  feedin'on  it.  There's  nothin'  left 
for  roads  and  bridges.  When  a  chap  sets  out  to 
canvass,  he's  got  to  antajjonize  one  side  or  t'other. 
If  he  hangs  on  to  the  powers  that  be,  then  he's  a 
Council-man  ;  he's  for  votin'  large  salaries,  for  d  )in* 
as  the  great  people  at  Halifax  tell  him.  lie  is  a  fool. 
If  he  is  on  t'other  side,  a  railin'  at  l»anks,  Judges, 
Lawyers,  and  such  cattle,  and  bawlin'  for  what  he 
knows  he  can't  get,  then  he  is  a  rogue.  So  that,  if 
you  were  to  listen  to  the  weak  and  noisy  critter  o!i 
both  sides,  you'd  believe  the  House  of  Asseujbly  was 
one  half  rogues  and  t'other  half  fools.  All  this  arises 
from  ignorance.  If  tlwfj  knew  more  of  each  other,  I 
jiiess  they'd  lay  aside  one  Jialf  tJun'r  fears  and  all  fheir 
t^buse.  The  tipper  classes  doat  know  one  ladf  the  rir- 
tue  that's  m  the  middlin'  and  harer  classes  ;  <(nd  they 
don't  know  one  half  the  hitetjrity  and  cjood  feel  in'  that's 
In  the  others  ;  and  both  are  fooled  and  f/nlled  by  their 
own  noisy  and  desiynin  champions.  Take  any  two 
Mien  that  are  by  the  ears,  they  op'nionate  all  they 


(( 


■')f 


i., 
1   i  I 


t 


Hi 

iV 


134 


THE  CL  0  CKMA  KER. 


■J  ! 


i   ' 


ii 


'I  i  '■ 


hear  of  each  other,  impute  all  sorts  of  on  worthy  mo- 
tives, and  misconstrue  every  act;  let  them  see  more 
of  each  other,  and  they'll  find  out  to  their  sur[)rise 
that  they  had  not  only  heen  lookin'  through  a  magni- 
fying glass  that  warn't  very  true,  but  a  colored  one 
also,  that  changed  the  complexion,  and  distorted  the 
features ;  and  each  one  will  think  t'other  a  very  good 
kind  of  chap,  and  like  as  not  a  plaguy  pleasant  one 
too. 

"  If  it  was  axed  v/hich  side  was  farthest  from  the 
mark  in  this  Province,  I  vow  I  should  be  puzzled  to 
say.  As  I  don't  belong  to  tl.3  country,  and  don't 
care  a  snap  of  my  finger  for  either  of  'em,  I  suppose 
I  "an  .(Udge  better  than  any  man  in  it;  but  I  snore 
I  don't  think  there's  much  difference.  The  popular 
side  —  I  won't  say  patriotic,  for  we  find  in  our  steam- 
boats a  man  who  has  a  plaguy  sight  of  property  in 
his  portmanter  is  quite  as  anxious  for  its  safety  as 
him  that's  only  one  paii  of  yarn  stockings  and  a  clean 
shirt,  is  for  his'n  —  the  popular  side  are  not  so  well 
informed  as  t'other,  and  they  have  the  misfortin'  of 
havin'  their  passions  addressed  more  than  their  rea- 
son, therefore  they  are  often  out  of  the  way,  or  rather 
led  ou^  of  it,  and  piit  astray  by  bad  guides  ;  well, 
t'other  side  have  the  pre  -udices  (^f  birih  a"d  educa- 
tion to  dim  their  vision,  and  are  alarmed  to  under- 
take a  thing,  from  the  dread  of  ambush,  or  open  foes, 
that  their  guides  a -e  etarnallv  descr-msr  in  the  mist 
and  besides^  power  haa  a  natural  tendency  to  coiyulency 
As  for  them  guides,  I'd  make  short  work  of  'em,  if  i 
was  me. 


i 


i 


i  V* 


\    ^ 


ly  mo- 
2  more 
ir[)iise 
ina<j[ni- 
3d  one 
led  the 
y  good 
Lilt  one 

om  the 
ded  to 
1  don't 
uppose 
[  snore 
)opular 
steam- 
erty  in 
ety  as 
a  clean 
so  well 
in'  of 
ir  rea- 
rather 
;  well, 
educa- 
iinder- 
n  toes, 
mist 
ulency 
n,  if  i 


TBE  GRAIIAMITE  AND  THE  IRISH  PILOT.   135 

*'  In  the  last  war  with  Britain,  the  Constittitinn  frig- 
ate was  close  in  once  on  the  sliores  of  Irehiiid,  a 
lookin'  arter  some  marchant  ships,  and  she  took  on 
board  a  pilot ;  well,  he  was  a  deep,  sly,  twistical  look- 
in'  chap,  as  you  e'enamost  ever  seed.  He  had  a  sort 
of  dark,  down  look  about  him,  and  a  leer  ont  of  the 
corner  of  one  eye,  like  u  horse  that's  goin'  to  kick. 
The  captain  guessed  he  read  in  his  face,  *  Well,  now, 
if  I  was  to  run  this  here  Yankee  right  slap  on  a  rock 
and  bil<j[e  her,  tiie  Kinji  would  make  a  man  of  me  for 
ever.'  So  says  he  to  the  first  leftenant,  *  Heeve 
rope  through  that  'ere  block  at  the  tip  eend  of  the 
fore  yard,  and  clap  a  runnin'  noose  in  it.'  The  leften- 
ant did  it  as  quick  as  wink,  and  came  back,  and 
says  he,  '  I  guess  it's  done.'  '  Now,'  says  the  captain, 
'look  here,  pilot ;  here's  a  rope  you  hain't  seed  yet; 
I'll  jist  explain  tiie  use  of  it  to  you  in  case  y  ju  want 
the  loan  of  it.  If  this  here  frigate,  manned  with  our 
free  and  enli<jhtened  citizens,  jjets  aground,  I'll  give 
you  a  ride  on  the  slack  of  that  'ere  rope,  right  up  to 
that  yard  by  the  neck,  by  Gum.'  Well,  it  rubbed  all 
the  writin'  out  of  his  face  as  quick  as  spittin'  on  a 
slate  takes  a  sum  out,  you  may  depend.  Now,  they 
should  rig  np  a  crane  over  the  street  _door  of  the 
State  House  at  Halifax,  and  when  any  of  the  pilots 
at  either  eend  of  the  buildin'  run  'em  on  the  breakers 
on  purpose,  string  'em  up  like  an  onsafe  dog.  A 
sign  of  that  'ere  kind,  with  •  A  house  of  public  enter- 
tainment' pninted  under  it,  would  do  the  business  in 
\ess  than  no  lime.     If  it  wouldn't  keep  the  hawks 


M  i\ 


.\'a 


i 


■  i 


136 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


out  of  the  poultry  yard,  it's  a  pity;  it  would  scare 
them  out  of  a  year's  growth,  that's  a  fact;  if  they 
used  it  once,  I  j^ucss  they  wouldn't  have  occasion  for 
it  ag'in  in  a  hurry;  it  would  be  like  the  aloe  tree, 
that  bears  fruit  only  once  in  a  hundred  years. 

"  If  you  want  to  know  how  to  act  any  time,  'Squire, 
never  go  to  books,  leave  them  to  gals  and  school- 
boys; but  go  right  off  and  cipher  it  out  of  natur', 
that's  a  sure  guide  ;  it  will  never  deceive  you,  you 
may  depend.  For  instance,  '  What's  that  to  me?*  is  a 
phrase  so  common  that  it  ^hows  it's  a  natural  one, 
when  people  have  no  particular  interest  in  a  thing. 
Well,  when  a  feller  gets  so  warm  on  either  side  as 
never  to  use  that  phrase  at  all.  watch  him,  that's  all ! 
keep  your  eye  on  him,  or  he'll  walk  right  into  you 
afore  you  know  where  you  be.  If  a  man  runs  to  me 
and  says,  'Your  fence  is  down,*  '  Thaid<  you,'  says  I, 
*  that's  kind.'  If  he  comes  ag'in  and  says,  '  I  guess 
some  stray  cattle  have  broke  into  your  short  sarce 
garden,'  I  thank  him  again  ;  says  I,  '  Come  now,  this 
is  neighborly ; '  but  when  he  keeps  etarnally  tellin' 
me  this  thing  of  one  sarvant,  and  that  thing  of  an- 
other sarvant,  hints  tiiat  my  friend  ain't  true,  that 
my  neighbors  are  inclined  to  take  advantage  of  me, 
and  that  suspicious  folks  are  seen  about  niy  place,  I 
tay  to  myself.  What  on  airth  makes  this  critter  take 
Buch  a  wonderful  interest  in  my  affairs?  I  don't  like 
to  hear  such  tales ;  he's  arter  somethin'  as  sure  as 
the  world,  if  he  warn't  he'd  say,  •  What's  that  to  meV 
I  never  believe  much  what  I  I  ear  said  bv  a  man's 


' 


d  scare 

if  they 

sion  for 

oe  tree, 


'Squire, 
scliool- 
'  natur', 
on,  you 
ye  ?  '  is  a 
nil  one, 
a  thing, 
side  as 
at's  all ! 
ito  you 
s  to  me 
'  says  I, 
I  guess 
rt  sarce 
ow,  this 
^  tellin' 
of  an- 
te, that 
of  me, 
)lace,  I 
er  take 
n't  like 
sure  as 
lo  meV 
\  man's 


iJ 


THE  GRA II AMITE  AND  THE  IRISH  Pli.O'f.  187 

violent  friend,  or  violent  encnu.  I  want  to  hear 
what  a  disiiiterested  man  has  to  say.  Now^  as  a  dis- 
interested  man,  J  say  if  the  members  of  the  House  oj 
Assemlj///,  instead  <f  raisin'  up  yliosts  and  hohyohlins  to 
friylilen  folks  with,  and  to  show  what  swordsnan  they 
be,  a  enttiii  and  a  thrustin'  at  phantoms  that  only  exist 
in  their  own  braifis,  would  turn  to.  heart  and  hand,  and 
develop  the  resources  of  this  fne  country,  facililate  the 
means  of  transport,  promote  its  internal  improvement,, 
and  encouraye  its  forciyn  trade,  they  would  make  it  the 
richest  and  yreatest,  as  it  now  is  one  of  the  happiest 
sections  of  <dl  America.  I  hope  I  may  be  skinned  if 
they  woxddn't  —  they  would^  J  swan.** 


•fj 


CHAPTER   XTX. 

THE    CLOCKMAKKR    QUILTS    A    BLUENOSE. 

The  descendants  of  Eve  have  profited  little  bji 
her  example.  The  curiosity  of  the  fair  sex  is  still 
insatiable,  and,  as  it  is  often  ill  directed,  it  frequently 
terminates  in  error.  In  the  country  this  feminine 
propensity  is  troublesome  to  a  traveller,  and  he  who 
wou!d  avoid  importunities  would  do  well  to  announce 
at  once,  on  his  arrival  at  a  Cuudjeiland  inn,  his 
name  and  his  bnsiness,  the  place  of  his  abode,  and 
the  length  of  his  visit. 

Our  beautiful  hostess,  Mrs.  Pu^jwash,  as  she  took 
her  seat  at  the  breakfast  table  this  mornino-  ex- 
hibited  the  example  that  sn^irested  these  reflections. 
She  was  struck  with  horror  at  our  conversation,  the 
latter  part  only  of  which  she  heard,  and  of  course 
misapplied  and  misunderstood. 

''  She  was  run  down  by  the  President^''  said  I,  "  and 
has  been  laid  np  for  some  time.  Gulard's  people 
have  stripped  her,  in  consequence  of  her  making 
water  so  fast." 

"  Stripped  whom  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Pugvvash,  as  she 
suddenly    dropped     the     teapot    from    her    hand 


■ 


IE. 

ittle  by 
is  still 
qiiently 
Miiinine 
he  who 
nounce 
nil,  his 
de,  and 

!ie  took 
no-,  ex- 
ictions. 
on,  the 
course 

, "  and 
people 
nuking 

IS  she 
hand 


rilE  CLOCKMAKEH  QUILTS  A  BLUENOSE.   189 
'  strip[)ed  whom,  —  for  heaven's  sake  tell  me  who  it 


IS 


?  " 


"The  Lady  Ot/le,"  si\k\  1. 

*'  Lady  Ogle  ? ''  said  she,  "  how  horrid  1 " 

"  Two  of  her  ribs  were  so  broken  as  to  require  to 
be  replaced  with  new  ones." 

"  Two  new  ribs!  "  said  she,  "well  I  never  heerd 
the  beat  of  that  in  all  my  born  days ;  poor  critter, 
how  she  must  have  suffered." 

"  On  examining  her  below  the  waist  they 
found  "  — 

"  Examining  her  still  lower,"  said  she  (all  the 
pride  of  her  sex  revolting  at  the  idea  of  such  an 
indecent  exhibition),  *'  you  don't  pretend  to  say  they 
stripped  her  below  the  waist!  What  did  the  Admiral 
say  ?  Did  he  stand  by  and  see  her  handled  in  that 
way  ?  " 

''  The  Admiral,  madam,"  said  I,  "  did  not  trouble 
his  head  about  it.  They  found  her  extremely  un- 
sound there,  and  much  worm-eaten." 

'•  Worm-eaten,"  she  continued,  "  how  awful !  it 
must  have  been  them  nasty  jiggers  that  ejot  in  there ; 
they  tell  me  they  are  dreadful  thick  in  the  West 
Indies  ;  Joe  Crow  had  them  in  his  feet,  and  lost  two 
of  his  toes.  Worm-eaten,  dear,  dear!  but  still  that 
ftin't  so  bad  as  having  them  great  he-fellows  strip 
one.  I  promise  you  if  them  Gulards  had  undertaken 
to  strip  me,  I'd  taught  them  different  guess  manners  ; 
I'd  died  lirst  before  I'd  submitted  to  it.  I  always 
heerd  tell  the  English  quality  ladies  were  awful  bold, 
but  I  never  heerd  the  like  o'  that." 


m 

% 


iu  tl 


140 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


"What  on  airth  are  you  drivin'  tit?"  said  Mr. 
Slick.  "  I  never  seed  vou  so  much  out  in  vour  lati- 
tude  afore,  niarin,  I  vow.  We  were  talkin'  of  re- 
painn'  a  vessel,  not  strippin'  a  woman:  what  under 
the  sun  could  have  put  that  'ere  crotchet  into  your 
head?"  She  looked  mortified  and  humbled  at  the 
result  of  her  own  absurd  curiosity,  and  soon  quitted 
the  room.  "  I  thousfht  I  should  have  snorted  rioht 
out  two  or  three  times,"  said  tlie  Clockuiaker  ;  "•  1 
had  to  pucker  up  my  mouth  like  the  upper  eend  of 
a  silk  puss,  to  keep  from  yawhawin'  in  her  face,  to 
hear  the  critter  let  her  clapper  ruii  that  fashion. 
She  is  not  the  first  hand  that  has  cauojht  a  lobster, 
by  puttii>'  in  her  oar  afore  her  turn,  I  criiess.  She'll 
mind  ht  r  stops  next  hitch,  1  reckon."  This  was  our 
last  breakfast  at  Amherst. 

An  early  frost  that  smote  the  potato  fields,  and 
chaucred  the  beautiful  jjreen  color  of  th?  Indian  corn 
into  shades  of  light  yellow  and  dark  brown,  reminded 
me  of  the  presence  of  autunm,  of  the  season  of 
short  days  and  bad  roads.  I  determined  to  proceed 
at  once  to  Pa:rsboro',  and  thence  by  the  Windsor 
and  Kentville  route  to  Annapolis,  Yarmouth,  and 
i^.helburne,  and  to  return  by  the  shore  road,  through 
Liverpool  iind  Lunenburg,  to  Halifax.  I  therefore 
iook  leave  (though  not  without  nuich  reluctance)  of 
the  Clockmaker,  whose  intention  had  been  to  go  to 
Foit  Lawrence. 

"  Well,"  said  lie,  "  I  vow  I  am  sorry  to  part  com- 
pany along  with  you  ;  a  considerable  long  journejf 


THE  CLOCKMAKER  QUILTS  A  BLUE  NOSE.    141 


-I 


like  our'n,  is  like  sitting  up  late  with  the  gals :  a 
bodv    knows    it's    oL'tlint;   on    prettv    well    towards 

*/  oof** 

niornin',  and  yet  feels  loth  to  go  to  bed,  for  it's  just 
the  time  folks  grow  sociable.  I  got  a  scheme  in  my 
head,"  said  he,  ''that  I  think  will  answer  both  ou 
ns ;  I  got  debts  dne  to  me  in  all  them  'ere  places  for 
clocks  sold  by  the  consarn  ;  now  snppose  you  leave 
your  horse  on  these  marshes  this  fall ;  he'll  get  as 
fat  as  a  fool,  he  won't  be  able  to  see  out  of  his  eves 
in  a  month;  and  I'll  put  '  Old  Clay'  (I  call  him 
Clay  arter  our  senator,  who  is  a  prime  bit  of  stuff) 
into  a  Yankee  wagon  I  have  here,  and  drive  you  all 
round  the  coast." 

This  was  too  good  an  offer  to  be  declined.  A  run 
at  grass  for  my  horse,  an  easy  and  comfortable 
wajTon,  and  a  guide  so  oriiiinal  and  amusing  as  Mr. 
Slick,  were  either  of  them  enough  to  induce  my 
acquiescence. 

As  soon  as  we  had  taken  our  seats  in  the  wagon, 
he  observed, — 

"  We  shall  progress  real  handsum  now  ;  that  'ere 
horse  goes  etarnal  fast ;  he  near  about  set  my  axle 
on  fire  twice.  He's  a  spanker,  you  may  depend.  I 
had  him  when  he  was  a  two-vear-old,  all  legs  and 
tail,  like  a  devil's  darnin'  needle,  and  had  him  broke 
»n  purpose  by  father's  old  nigger,  January  Snow 
He  knows  P^nglish  real  well,  and  can  do  near  about 
anything  but  speak  it.  He  helped  me  once  to  gin 
H  Bluenose  a  proper  handsum  quiltin'." 

**  He  must  have  stood  a  poor  chance  indeed,"  said 


F 


.  }| 


«;i  1! 


142 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


. « 


r,  "  a  horse  kicking,  and  a  man  striking  him  at  the 
Bame   time." 

"  O !  not  arter  that  pattern  at  all,"  said  he 
"Lord,  if  Old  Clav  had  kicked  him,  he'd  a  smashed 
him  like  that  'ere  saucer  you  broke  at  Pugnose's  inn 
into  ten  hundred  thousand  million  flinders.  0  !  i^^, 
if  I  didn't  fix  his  flint  for  him  in  fair  play  it's  a  pity. 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  I  was  up  to  Truro,  at  Ezra 
Whitter's  inn.  Tiiere  was  an  arbitration  there 
at  ween  Deacon  Text  and  Deacon  Faithful.  Well, 
there  was  a  nation  sight  of  folks  there,  for  they  said 
it  WHS  a  biter  bit,  and  they  came  to  witness  the 
sport,  and  to  see  which  critter  would  get  the  ear- 
mark. 

"  Well,  I'd  been  doin'  a  little  business  there  among 
the  folks,  and  had  jist  sot  off  for  the  river,  mounted 
on  Old  Clay,  arter  takin'  a  glass  of  Ezra's  most  par- 
ticular handsuin  Jamaiky,  and  was  trottin'  off  pretty 
slick,  when  who  should  I  run  ag'in  but  Tim  Bradley. 
He  is  a  dreadful  ugly,  cross-grained  critter,  as  you 
a'enamost  ever  seed,  when  he  is  about  half-shaved. 
Well,  I  stopped  short,  and  says  1,  *  Mr.  Tiradley,  1 
hope  you  bean't  hurt ;  I'm  proper  sorry  I  run  ng'in 
you ;  you  can't  feel  uglier  than  I  do  about  it,  I  do 
assure  you.'  He  called  me  a  Yankee  peddler,  a  cheat- 
in'  vaj^abond,  a  wooden  nutmeg,  and  threw  a  good 
deal  of  assorted  hardware  of  that  kind  at  me ;  and 
the  crowd  of  folks  cried  out,  '  Down  with  the  Yan- 
kee ! '  'Let  him  have  it,  Tim!'  'Teach  him  bet- 
ter manners ! '  and  they  carried  on  pretty  high,  I  tel," 


VHE  CLOCKMAKER  QUILTS  A  BLUE  NOSE.   143 


you.  Well,  I  got  my  dander  up  too,  I  felt  all  up  on 
eend  like  ;  and  thinks  I  to  myself,  JNIy  lad,  if  I  get 
a  clever  chunce,  I'll  give  you  such  a  quiltin'  as  you 
never  had  since  you  were  raised  from  a  seedliu',  I 
vow.  So  says  I,  '  ]Mr.  Bradley,  I  guess  you  had  bet- 
ter let  me  be ;  you  know  I  can't  fight  no  more  than 
a  cow;  I  never  was  brought  up  to  wranglin',  I  don't 
like  it.'  '  Haul  off  the  cowardly  rascal ! '  they  all 
bawled  out,  '  haul  hiui  off  and  lay  it  into  him  ! '  So 
he  lays  right  hold  of  me  by  the  collar,  and  gives  me 
a  pull,  and  I  lets  on  as  if  I'd  lost  my  balance,  and 
falls  right  down.  Then  I  jumps  up  on  eend,  and 
says  I,  '  Go  ahead.  Clay,'  and  the  old  horse  he  sets 
off  ahead,  so  I  knew  I  had  hiui  when  I  wanted  him. 
*  Then,*  says  I,  *  I  hope  you  are  satisfied  now,  Mr, 
Bradley,  with  that  'ere  ungenteeei  fall  you  gin  me.' 
Well,  he  makes  a  blow  at  me,  and  I  dodged  it. 
'  Now,'  says  I,  '  you'll  be  sorry  for  this,  I  tell  you ;  I 
won't  be  treated  this  wav  for  nothin',  I'll  no  rhAu  off 
and  swear  my  life  agin  you  ;  I'm  most  afeerd  you'll 
murder  me.'  Well,  he  strikes  at  me  ag'in,  thinkin' 
he  had  a  genuine  soft  horn  to  deal  with,  and  hits  me 
in  the  shoulder.  *  Now,'  says  I,  '  I  won't  stand  here 
to  be  lathered  like  a  dog  all  day  long  this  fashion, 
it  ain't  pretty  at  all  ;  I  guess  I'll  give  you  a  chase 
for  it.'  Off  I  sets  arter  my  horse  like  mad,  and  he 
arter  me  (I  did  that  to  get  clear  of  the  crowd,  so  that 
I  might  have  fair  play  at  hiui).  Wei".,  I  soon  found 
(  had  the  heels  of  him,  and  could  j)lay  him  as  I  liked. 
Then  I  slackened  up  a  little,  and  when  he  came  close 


1! 


i:^1 


I 


144 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


up  lo  me,  so  as  nearly  to  lay  his  hand  upon  me,  I  squat- 
i,ed  ri^ht  vvhap  down,  all  short,  and  he  pitched  over 
me  near  about  a  rod  or  so,  I  guess,  on  his  head,  and 
ploughed  up  the  ground  with  his  nose  the  matter  of 
a  foot  or  two.  If  he  didn't  polish  up  the  coulter,  and 
both  mouldboards  of  his  face,  it's  a  pity.  '  Now, 
Bays  I,  'you  had  better  lay  where  you  be  and  let  me 
go,  for  I  am  proper  tired ;  I  blow  like  a  horse  that's 
got  the  heaves  ;  and  besides,'  says  I,  *  I  guess  you 
had  better  wash  your  face,  for  I  am  most  afeared  you 
hurt  yourself.'  That  riled  him  properly  ;  I  meant 
that  it  should ;  so  he  ups  and  at  me  awful  spiteful, 
like  a  bull ;  then  I  lets  him  have  it,  right,  left,  right, 
jist  three  corkers,  beginning  with  the  right  hand, 
shifting  to  the  left,  and  then  with  the  right  hand  ag'in. 
This  way  I  did  it,"  said  the  Clockmaker  (and  he 
showed  me  the  manner  in  which  it  was  done) ;  '*  it's 
a  beautiful  way  of  hitting,  and  always  does  the  busi- 
ness —  a  blow  for  each  eye,  and  one  for  the  mouth. 
It  sounds  like  ten  pounds  ten  on  a  blacksmith's  an^ 
vil ;  I  bunged  up  both  eyes  for  him,  and  put  in  the 
dead  lights  in  tu  tu's,  and  drew  three  of  his  teeth, 
(packer  a  plaguy  sight  than  the  Truro  doctor  could, 
to  save  his  soul  alive.  '  Now,'  says  I,  '  my  friend, 
when  you  recover  your  eyesight  I  guess  you'll  see 
your  mistake  ;  I  warn't  born  in  the  woods  to  be 
scared  by  an  owl.  The  next  time  you  feel  in  a  most 
particular  elegant  good  humor,  come  to  me.  and  I'll 
play  you  the  second  part  of  that  identical  same  tune 
that's  a  fact.' 


_r —    -  -^T  - 


t  ii    ' 


ill 


.1  i 


^  t 


II 


THE  CLOCKMAKER  QUILTS  A  BLUENOSE.  145 


«  With  that  I  wliistled  for  Old  Clay,  and  back  he 
comes,  and  I  mounted  and  ofli  jisl  as  the  crowd  came 
up.  The  folks  looked  staggered,  and  wondered  a 
little  grain  how  it  was  done  so  cleverly  in  short  me- 
tre. If  J  didn't  quilt  him  in  no  time,  you  may  de- 
pend;  I  went  right  slap  into  hini,  like  a  flash  of 
lightning  into  a  gooseberry  bush,  lie  found  his  suit 
ready  made  and  fitted  afore  he  thought  he  was  half 
measured.  Thinks  I,  Friend  IJiadley,  I  hope  you 
know  yourself  now,  for  I  vow  no  livin'  soul  would  ; 
you  swallowed  your  soup  without  singin'  out  scaldins, 
and  you're  near  about  a  pint  and  a  half  nearer  cry- 
in'  than  larfin'. 

"  Yes,  as  I  was  sayin',  this  Old  Clay  is  a  real 
knowin'  one ;  he's  as  spry  as  a  colt  yet,  clear  grit, 
ginger  to  the  backbone ;  1  can't  help  a  thinkin* 
sometimes  the  breed  must  have  come  from  old  Ken- 
tuck,  half  horse,  half  alligator,  with  a  cross  of  the 
aisthquake. 

"  I  hope  I  may  be  teetotally  ruinated,  if  I'd  take 
eight  hundred  dollars  for  him.  Go  ahead,  you  old 
clinker-built  villain,"  says  he,  "  and  show  the  gen- 
tleman how  wonderful  handswrn  you  can  travel. 
Give  him  the  real  Connecticut  quickstep.  That's 
it !  that's  the  way  to  carry  the  President's  message 
to  Congress  from  Washington  to  New  York  in  no 
iime !  that's  the  go  to  carry  a  gal  from  Boston  to 
Rhode  Island,  and  trice  her  up  to  a  Justice  to  be 
married,  afore  her  father's  out  of  bed  of  a  summei's 
mornin'.  Ain't  he  a  b(^autv  ?  a  real  doll  ?  none  of 
10 


■4i 
■  f 


146 


THE   CLOCKSfAKER. 


your  Cumberland  critters,  that  the  more  you  quilt 
them,  the  more  they  won't  go;  but  a  proper  0!ie,  that 
will  oo  free  gratis  for  nothin',  all  out  of  his  own  head 
>fo\\\nterrily.  Yes,  a  horse  like  Old  Clay  is  worth 
the  whole  seed,  breed,  and  generation  of  the  Amherst 
beasts  nut  together.  He's  a  horse  every  inch  of 
him,  stock,  lock,  and  barrel,  is  Old  Clay." 


J"  id 


u 


if 


it 


I 


i 


CHAPTER  XX. 


STSTKR    SALL  S  COURTSHIP. 


"  There  goes  one  of  tliem  'ere  evcrlastin'  rottin* 
poles  in  that  bridge;  they  are  no  be*  '^r  than  a  trap 
for  a  critter's  leg,"  said  the  Ciocknial'.  r.  "They  re- 
mind me  of  a  trap  Jim  JMunroe  p>,.  his  i.)ot  in  one 
night,  that  near  about  made  oho  ie*^  half  a  yard 
loncrer  tlian  t'otiier.  I  believe  \  toid  vou  of  him, 
what  a  desperate  idle  feller  he  v  .  he  came  from 
Onion  County  in  Connecticut.  Well,  he  was  court- 
in'  Sister  Sail.  She  was  a  real  haudsum  looking 
gal ;  you  scarce  ever  seed  a  more  out-and-out  com- 
plete critter  than  she  was ;  a  fine  figur'  head,  and  a 
beautiful  model  of  a  craft  as  any  in  the  State,  a  real 
clipper,  and  as  full  of  fun  and  frolic  as  a  kitten. 
Well,  he  fairly  turned  .Sail's  head  ;  the  more  we 
wanted  her  to  give  him  up,  the  more  she  wouldn't, 
find  we  got  plaguy  oneasy  about  it,  for  his  character 
was  none  of  the  best.  lie  was  a  universal  favorite 
with  the  gals,  though  he  didn't  behave  very  pretty 
neither,  forgetting  to  marry  where  he  promised,  and 
where  he  hadn't  ought  to  have  forgot  too  ;  yet  so  it 
was,  he  had  such  an  uncommon    winnin'  way  with 


I 


148 


THE   CLOCKyfAKER. 


M 

I      i      1 


^   fi 


'I 

V 


;i 


i\ 


Iiii7i,  he  could  talk  tlioin  over  in  no  time.     Sail  was 
fairly  bewitched. 

"  At  last,  father  said  to  him  one  evening  when  he 
came  a  c(Hirtin',  *  Jim,'  says  he,  'you'll  never  come 
to  no  i:()(Kl,  if  vou  act  like  Old  Scratch  as  you  do  ; 
you  ain't  fit  to  come  into  no  decent  man's  house  at 
ail,  and  your  al)sence  woul-d  be  ten  times  more 
agreeable  than  your  couipany.  I  tell  you.  I  woji't 
consent  <o  Hall's  goin'  to  them  'ere  huskin'  paicies 
and  quiltin'  frolics  along  with  you  no  more,  on  no 
account,  for  you  know  how  Polly  Brown  and  Nancy 
White  '  —  '  Now  don't,'  says  he,  '  now  don't,  Uncle 
Sam,  say  no  more  about  that :  if  you  knovv'd  ail,  you 
wouldn't  say  it  was  my  fault ;  and  besides,  I  have 
turned  right  about ;  I  am  on  t'other  lack  now,  and 
the  long  leg,  too ;  I  am  as  steady  as  a  pump  bolt, 
now.  I  intend  to  settle  myself  and  take  a  farm.' 
'  Yes,  yes  ;  and  you  could  atock  it,  too,  by  all  ac- 
counts, pretty  well,  unless  you  are  much  misre- 
ported,'  says  father,  '  but  it  won't  do.  I  knew  your 
father,  he  was  our  sargeant ;  a  proper  clever  and 
brave  man  he  was.  too  ;  he  was  one  of  the  heroes  of 
our  glorious  Revolution.  I  had  a  great  respect  for 
him,  and  I  am  sorry,  lor  his  sake,  you  will  act  as  you 
do ;  but  I  tell  you  once  for  all  you  must  give  up  all 
thouiihts  of  Sail,  now  and  for  everlastin'.'  When 
Sail  heerd  this,  she  began  to  knit  away  like  mad,  in 
a  desperate  hurry  ;  she  looked  foolish  enough,  that's 
a  fact.  First  she  tried  to  bite  in  her  breath,  and 
look  as  if  there  was  nothin'  particular  in  the  wind 


'       { 


5/.S77;/.'   SA/.rS   rOUllTSIllP. 


149 


then  she  l)hish(Ml  all  ovor  like  s  'iirl(»t  fover,  1>iit  she 
recovered  that  pretty  soon  ;  ami  tlieii  her  color  went 
and  came,  and  caiiu;  and  went,  till  at  last  she  <;rew 
as  white  as  chalk,  and  down  she  Cell  slap  (»l]'lier  seat 
on  the  floor,  in  a  fainlin'  (it.  '  I  see.'  >a\s  fallier.  •  1 
see  it  now,  you  etarnal  villain.'  and  he  made  a  pull 
at  the  old-fashiontHl  sword,  that  alwavs  huii<>  over 
the  fir(>place  (we  us(  d  to  call  it  old  liunker,  fof  his 
stories  alwavs  heLiini,  '  When  I  was  at  llunkei's 
Hill  '),  and  drawing  it  out  he  nuuhi  a  clip  at  him  as 
wicked  as  if  he  was  stabhinii  a  rat  witli  a  lia\f'oik  : 
but  Jim,  he  outs  of  the  door  like  a  shot,  and  draws 
it  to  arter  him.  and  father  sends  old  liunker  ri^ht 
throuijjh  the  panel.  '  Til  chop  you  up  as  ['ww.  as 
mince-meat,  vou  villain.'  said  he,  *  if  ever  I  catch  vou 
inside  mv  door  air'in  ;  nnnd  what  I  tell  vou,  yinHl 
uving  fur  it  yi'.€  Well,  he  made  himself  consider- 
able scarce  arter  that;  he  never  sol  foot  inside  the 
door  ag'in,  and  I  thought  he  had  gin  up  all  hopes- of 
Sail,  and  she  of  him  ;  when  one  ni^lit,  a  most  par- 
ticular uncomnion  dark  nioht,  as  I  was  a  comin' 
heme  iVom  neii^hhor  Dearborne's.  I  heerd  some  one 
a  talkin'  under  Sail's  window.  Well,  I  stops  and 
listens,  and  who  shoidd  be  near  the  a^h  sajiliii'  but 
Jim  Munroe,  a  tryin'  to  persuade  Sail  to  run  oU'with 
him  to  Khode  Island  to  be  married.  It  was  all 
Bettled  he  should  come  with  a  hoise  and  shay  to  the 
gale,  and  then  help  her  out  of  tlu!  window,  jist  at 
nine  o'clock,  about  the  time  she  conmionly  went  to 
bed.     Then  he  axes  her  to  reach  down  her  hand  for 


V. 


150 


77//';   (N.Ot'KSIAKI'.R. 


'  Hj 


Ml 


n?i 


him  to  kiss  (for  lie  was  proper  clever  at  soft  sawder) 
and  she  stretched  it  down,  and  he  kisses  it;  atid 
says  lie,  '  I  believe  I  must  liav(»  the  whole  of  you  out 
arter  all,'  ami  gwvs  her  a  jerk  that  kinder  startled 
her  ;  it  came  so  sudden  like  it  made  her  scream  : 
so  off  he  sot.  hot  foot,  and  over  the  gate  in  no  time. 
"  Well,  I  ciphered  over  this  all  night,  a  calculatin* 
how  I  should  ri'ciprocate  that  trick  with  him,  and  at 
last  I  hit  on  a  scheme.  I  recollected  father's  words 
at  partin',  "  Mind  ivhat  I  tell  j/on,  yoiill  sivimj  for  it 
yet;'  and  thinks  I,  Friend  Jim,  I'll  make  that 
})rophecy  come  true  yet,  I  guess.  So  the  next  night, 
jist  at  dark,  1  gives  .January  Snow,  the  old  nigger,  a 
nidge  with  my  ellxuv,  and  as  soon  us  he  looks  up, 
I  winks  and  walks  out,  and  he  arter  Mne.  Says  I, 
'January,  can  you  keep  your  tongue  within  your 
teeth,  you  old  nigger,  you  ?  '  '  Why  massa,  why  you 
ax  that  'ere  question  ?  my  Gor  A'mity,  you  tink  old 
Snow  he  don't  know  tiiat  'ere  yet?  my  tongue  he 
got  plenty  room  now,  debil  a  tooth  left  ;  he  can 
stretch  out  ever  so  far  ;  like  a  little  leo  in  a  big  bed, 
he  lay  (piiet  (Miough,  massa,  neber  fea".'  '  Well, 
then,'  says  I.  •  bend  down  that  'ere  ash  saplin'  softly, 
you  old  Snowbtdl,  and  miike  no  noise.'  The  saplin' 
was  no  sooner  bent  than  secured  to  the  ground  by  a 
notched  peg  and  a  noose,  and  a  slij)-knot  was  sus- 
pended from  the  tree,  jist  over  the  track  that  led 
from  the  pathway  to  the  house.  '  Why  my  Gor, 
massa.  that's  a  '  —  '  Mold  your  mug,  von  old  ni<»ger,' 
says  I.  •  or  I'll  send  your  tongue  a  sarchin'  arter  your 
*.eeth  ;  keep  quiet,  and  follow  me  in  presently.' 


SISTKR  SALL'S   COURTSHIP. 


lot 


"  Well,  jist   as    it   struck    nino    o'clock,   says    T, 
Sally,  hold  this  licit;  h;iiik  of  twine  for  a  inimit", 
till  1  Nviiid  a  tiifli;  on  it  olF;  that's  a  dear  critter.* 
She  sot  down   her  candle,  and   I  put  the  twine  on 
her  hands,  and  then  I  begins  to  wind  and  wind  aw;iy 
ever  so  slow,  and  drops  the  ball  every  now  and  then, 
so  as  to  keep  her  down-slairs.     '  Sam,'  says  she.  *  I 
do  Ixdievt!    vou  won't  wind  that  'ere    twine  ofl'  all 
night;  do   give    it    to    .lanuary ;  I    wcm't    stay    no 
longer;    I'm     e'enamost    dead    asleep.'     'The     old 
feller's  arm   is  so  plaguy  onsteady,'  says  I,  '  it  won't 
do;  but  hark  !  what's  that?   I'm  sure  I  heerd  some- 
thing in  the  ash  safdin',  didn't  you  Sail  ?  '     'I  heerd 
the  geese  there,  that's  all.'  says  she;  'they  always 
come  under  the  windows  at  nijjht ; '  but  she  looked 
scared  enough,  and  says  she, '  I  vow,  I'm  tired  holdin* 
out  of  my  arms  this  way,  and  I  won't  do  it  no  longer  ; ' 
and    down    she    throwed     the    hank     on     the    floor. 
♦  Well,'  says  I,  'stop  one  minute,  dear,  till  I  send  old 
January  out    to  see    if  anybody  is    there ;  perhaps 
some  o'  neighbor  Dearborne's  cattle  have  broke  into 
the  sarce  <;arden.'     January  went  out,  though  Sail 
said  it  was  no  use,  for  siie  knew  the  noise  of  the 
geese  ;  they  always  kept  close  to  the  house  at  night, 
for  fear  of  the  varmin.     Presently  in  runs  old  Snow, 
with  his  hair  standin'  up  on  eend,  and  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  lookin'  as  big  as  the  rims  of  a  soup-plate. 
O!   Gor  A'mity,'  said   lu?,  'O  massa,  O  Miss  Sally, 
0! '     '  What  on  airth  is  the  matter  with  you  ?*  said 
Sally ;  '  how  you  do  frighten  me ;   I  vow,  I   believe 


i 


162 


7HE   CLOCKMAKER. 


i   : 


ii  5' 
\l 


\\\ 


Is 


you're  mad.'  '  0  n\\  Gor,'  said  he,  'O  !  massa,  Jim 
Mimroe  ho  hang  himself  on  the  ash  saj)lin'  under 
Miss  Sally's  windinv  —  ()  my  Gor  !'  Tiiat  shot  was 
a  settler,  it  struck  poor  Sail  rioht  atwixt  wind  and 
water ;  she  gave  a  lurch  ahead,  then  heeled  over, 
and  sunk  right  down  in  another  f'aintin'  fit ;  and 
/hitio,  old  Snow's  wife,  carried  her  oti'  and  laid  her 
down  on  the  bed.  Poor  thing,  she  felt  ugly  enough, 
I  do  suppose. 

'•Well,  father,  I  thought  he'd  a  fainted,  too;  he 
was  so  struck  up  all  of  a  heap,  he  was  completely 
bung  fungered.  '  Dear,  dear ! '  said  he,  '  I  didn't 
think  it  would  come  to  pass  so  soon,  but  I  knew  it 
would  come;  I  foretold  it;  says  I.  the  last  time  I 
seed  him,  "Jin\,"  says  I.  "mind  what  I  say,  yowV/ 
swing  for  it  yet^  (^ive  me  the  sword  T  wore  when 
I  was  at  Bunker  Hill. —  may  he  tiieie  is  life  yet, — 
I'll  cut  him  down.'  TiiC  lantern  was  soon  made 
ready,  and  out  we  went  to  the  ash  sa|)rm'.  '  C^ut  me 
down,  Sam  I  that's  a  "ood  iellow.'  said  .lim  ;  *  all  the 
blood  in  inv  !)()dv  has  swashed  into  mv  head,  and's 
a  runnin'  out  o'  mv  nose  ;  I'm  e'enamost  smothered  ; 
be  (pn'ck,  for  Heaven's  sake.'  '  The  Lord  be  praised,' 
said  father,  '  the  poor  sinner  is  not  quite  d(!ad  yet. 
Whv,  as  I'm  alive; — well  if  that  don't  heat  ail 
notur' !  why  he  has  hanged  himself  by  one  leg,  and's 
B  swingin'  like  ?.  rabbit,  upside  down,  that's  a  lact, 
Why,  if  he  ain't  snai(:(),  Sam  ;  he  is  properly  wired 
I  declare  ;  I  vow  t.iis  is  some  o'  your  dolus,  Sam. 
Well,  it  was  a  clever  scheme  too,  but  a  little  grain 


iiIST£n  SALL\i   COURTS  III  P. 


1  •" " 


too  danoerous,  I  miess.'  *  Doi/t  stand  stariii'  and 
jawin'  there  all  niijjht/  said  Jim.  •  cut  ine  down,  I  tell 
voii  —  or  cut  n»v  throat,  and  be  dauuKnl  to  von,  for 
I  am  chokin'  with  blood.'  '  lioll  over  that 'ere  hoi^s- 
head,  old  Snow,'  said  I,  '  till  I  ijjet  atop  on  it  and  cut 
him  down.'  So  I  soon  n^leased  him,  but  he  couldn't 
walk  a  bit.  His  ankle  was  swelled  and  sprained  like 
venireance,  and  he  swore  one  lei£  was  near  al)()ut  six 
inches  longer  than  t'other.  '  Jim  Munroe,'  savs 
father,  'little  did  I  think  I  should  ever  see  vou  in- 
side  my  door  a<4'in,  but  I  bid  you  enter  nt)w  ;  we 
owe  you  that  kindness,  anyhow.' 

'•  Well,  to  make  i  ion^j  story  siiort,  Jim  was  so 
chop-fallen,  and  so  down  in  the  month,  he  begged  for 
Heaven's  sak(i  it  mi<_iht  be  kept  a  secret;  he  said  he 
would  run  tin;  State  if  ever  it  uot  wind,  he  was  sure 
he  couldn't  stand  it.  '  It  will  be  one  while,  I  ^iiess,' 
said  father,  '  afore  you  are  able;  to  run  or  stand  cither; 
but  if  vou  will  ix've  me  vour  hand,  Jim,  and  pioinise 
to  cive  over  vour  evil  ways,  I  will  not  only  keep  it 
secret,  but  you  shall  be  a  welcome  j^uest  at  old  Sam 
Slick's  once  more,  for  the  sake  of  your  father,  lie 
was  a  brave  man,  one  of  the  heroes  of  Hunker's  Hill ; 
he  was  our  seri^c^ant  and' —  '  He  promises,'  says  I, 
'father'  (for  the  old  man  had  stuck  his  riuht  foot 
out,  the  'A'v  he  always  stood  when  \\v  t(»ld  about  tlu; 
old  war:  and  as  Jin;  cou'dn't  stir  a  pen,  it  was  a 
f^rand  chance,  and  \n\  was  aijoin'  to  gi\e  him  the 
whole  Revolution  frosn  (rcneral  Gane  up  to  hide- 
oendence).  '  he  [)romi^es,'  says   I,  "lather.'      \VeU,  it 


154 


THE   CL  0  CKMA  KER. 


l?-t     I 


was  all  settlccl,  and  things  soon  grew  as  calm  as  a 
pan  of  milk  two  days' old  ;  and  afore  a  year  was  over, 
Jim  was  as  steady  a  goin'  man  as  Minister  Josluia 
Hopewell,  and  was  married  to  our  Sail.  Notliin' 
was  ever  said  about  the  snare  till  arter  the  weddin'. 
"When  the  minister  had  finished  axin'  a  hlessin', 
father  goes  up  to  Tim,  and  says  he,  'Jim  IM'mroe, 
my  boy,'  givin'  him  a  rousin'  slap  on  the  shoulder 
that  sot  him  a  cou«>hin'  for  the  matier  of  five  min- 
utes  (for  he  was  a  mortal  powerful  man,  was  father), 
'Jim  Munroe,  my  boy,'  says  he,  'you've  got  the 
snare  round  your  nock,  I  guess  now,  instead  of  your 
leg;  the  sapii!!'  has  been  a  father  to  you  ;  you  may 
be  the  father  of  many  saplins.' 

"  We  had  a  most  special  time  of  it,  you  may  de- 
pend, all  except  the  minister;  father  got  him  into  a 
coiner,  and  gave  him  chapter  iind  verse  for  the  whole 
war.  Every  no.v  and  then  as  I  come  near  them,  I 
heard  Hunker's  Hill,  Urandywine,  Clinton,  Gates, 
and  so  on.  It  was  broad  day  when  we  parted,  and 
tho  last  that  went  was  poor  minister.  Father 
followed  him  clean  down  to  the  gate,  and  says  he. 
'Minister,  we  hadn't  time  this  hitch,  or  I'd  a  told  you 
all  about  the  Evakyation  of  ^{i^  York,  but  I'll  tell 
fou  that  the  next  time  we  meet.' " 


CIIAPTKR  XXr. 


SETTING    IW    FOR    GOVERNOR. 


*'  1  NEVER  seo  one  of  tlioHi  qiiecr  little  old-fash- 
ioned teapots,  like  tliat  ere  in  the  cupboard  of  INIariJi 
Putjwjish,"  said  the  C'loekmaker,  '•  that  I  don't  tliink 
of  Lawyer  Crowniniishirid  and  his  wife.  Wlicn  I 
was  down  to  Rhode  Island  last.  1  spent  an  eveninjj; 
with  them.  Aftcjr  I  had  been  tluMe  awhile,  the 
black  house-help  brought  in  a  litlU'  hotne-niaae 
dij)ped  candle,  stuck  in  a  turnip  sliced  in  two,  t(. 
make  it  stand  straight,  and  sot  it  down  on  the 
;  .i)le.  '  Why,'  says  the  Lawvcr  to  his  wife.  '  In- 
irease,  mv  dear,  what  on  earth  is  tlie  meanin'  o' 
that?  What  does  little  Viney  mean  by  brinoin'  in 
such  a  liiiht  as  this,  that  ain't  fit  for  even  a  loi>  huL 
of  one  of  our  free  and  enli^ihtened  citizens  awav 
down  East ;  where's  the  lamp  ?  '  '  JNIv  dear,'  savs 
she,  '  I  ordered  it — you  know  they  are  a  i^oin'  to 
set  vou  ui>  for  Governor  next  year,  and  I  allot  we 
must  economizes  or  we  will  he  ruined  ;  the  salary  is 
only  four  hundred  dollars  a  year,  you  know,  and 
you'll  have  to  <^ive  up  your  practice ;  we  can't  afford 
uothln'  now.' 


0 


156 


7  HE   CL  0  CKMA  KER. 


"Well,  when  tea  was  brought  in,  there  was  a  little 
wee  china  teapot,  that  held  about  the  matter  of  half 
a  pint  or  so,  and  cups  and  sarcers  about  the  bigiu'ss 
of  children's  toys.  When  he  seed  tliat,  he  i;rew 
most  peskily  riled,  his  under  lip  curled  down  liut?  a 
f)each  leaf  that's  «;()t  a  worm  in  it,  and  he  stripped 
his  teeth  and  showed  his  i>rii»ders,  hke  a  hull-d()i£. 
'  What  foolery  is  this  ?  '  said  he.  '  My  dear,'  said 
she,  it's  llu;  foolerv  of  beinj;  Governor;  if  vou 
choose  to  sacrifice  all  your  comfort  to  being  the  first 
runi;  in  the  ladder,  don  t  blame  me  for  it.  I  didn't 
nominate  you  ;  1  had  no  art  nor  part  in  it.  It  was 
cooked  up  at  tiiat  'ere  Convention,  at  Town  Hall.' 
Well,  he  sot  for  some  time  without  sayin'  a  word, 
lookin'  as  black  as  a  thunder-cloud,  just  n^ady  to 
make  all  natur'  crack  ag'in.  At  last  he  gets  up,  and 
walks  round  behind  his  wife's  chair,  and  takin'  her 
face  between  his  two  hands,  he  turns  it  up  and  gives 
her  a  buss  that  went  off  like  a  |)istol  ;  it  fairly  made 
my  mouth  water  to  see  him  ;  thinks  T,  Them  lips 
ain't  a  bad  bank  to  (lej)osit  one's  spare  kisses  in, 
neither.  '  Increase,  my  dear,'  said  he,  '  I  beli(;ve 
you  are  half  right;  I'll  decline  to-morrow,  I'll  have 
nothin'  to  do  with  it.  I  wont  he  a  Goveitior,  on  no 
arroHHf..' 

"  \V(dl.  she  had  to  haw  and  gee  like,  both  a  little, 
tifore  she  could  get  her  head  out  of  his  hands  ;  and 
then  she  said,  •  Zachariah,'  says  sh(\  '  how  you  do 
let!  ain't  vou  ashamed?  Do  r(»r  gracious'  sake  be- 
have  vourself!'  and  she  colored   ui)  all  ovi'r  like  a 


hettiml;  up  run  aovLusuii. 


\ol 


crimson  piiiny;  'if  you  haven't  foozled  ail  my  liair 
too,  that's  a  lact,'  says  slie  ;  uiid  she  put  l>er  curls  to 
ri|;Ii(s,  and  looked  as  pl;'ased  as  liiu,  thonL;h  pouliii' 
all  the  lime,  anel  walked  rii-ht  out  of  the  room. 
Presently  in  come  two  well  dressed  house-helps,  one 
with  a  splendid  ^ilt  lamp,  a  ical  Loudon  touch,  and 
another  with  a  tea  trav,  with  a  lar<fe  solid  silver 
conee-[)ot,  and  teai>ot,  and  a  cream  jug,  and  siigiir 
bowl,  of  the  same  ^euuine  uu^U'.l,  and  a  ujost  elei^ant 


set    of    real    nilt    china. 


lien     in     came 


Mi 


irm 


Crowningshield  herselt",  lookiti'  as  proud  as  if  she 
would  not  call  the  President  her  cousin  ;  and  she 
gave  tiie  J^awyer  a  look,  as  much  as  to  say.  I  guess 
when  M  '.  Slick  is  gone,  I'll  pay  you  off  that  'ere  kiss 
with  inte  est,  you  dear,  you  ;  I'll  answer  a  bill  at 
sight  for  it,   1   will,  you   may   depend.     '  I  believe,' 


s  dd  he  air'in,  •  vou  are  rii: 


\\L  I 


ncrease,  mv  de.ir,  it's 


ai 


ui 


w 


\  expensive  kind  of  honor  that,  bein'  (jovenior, 
rI  no  great,  thanks  n-.-ither  ;  gi  at  cry  and  little 
ool ;  all  talk  and  no  cider.  It's  enough,  1  guess, 
for  a  man  to  uovern  his  own  fair.ilv,  ain't  it,  de:  ;■  ?  ' 
*  Sartin,  my  love,'  said  she,  'sartin.  •-  man  is  never  so 
n\uch  in  his  own  [)roper  sphere  >  there  ;  and  be- 
sides,' said  she,  'his  will  is  supre  t;  to  home  ;  thero 
s  no  dauijer  of  tmy  one  non-coiK  tnrinii  him  there;' 
and  she  gave  me  a  sly  look,  as  u.uch  as  to  say.  I  le( 
him  think  he  is  master  in  hi.-  ^  mi  house,  foi-  when 
adies  wear  the  breeches,  their  peiilcoats  ought  to  be 
'ong  enough  to  hide  tluMU  ;  but  1  allot.  Mr.  Slick, 
vou  can  sei;  with  half  an  eve  liiat  the  *  iirav  mare  is 
^he  better  lior.se  '  here. 


158 


THh:   CLOCK  MAKER. 


Il 


■  i 


f 


"  What  ;i  pity  it  is,"  continued  tlic  Clockniaker, 
"  tliiit  the  HIiK'noscs  would  not  take  ii  leaf  out  of 
IMann  C'rownin^shield's  i)()ok,  —  talk  more  of  tiieir 
own  aflUirs  and  less  of  j)olitics.  I'm  sick  of  the 
everhistin'  sound  of  '  House  of  Assembly,'  and 
'  Council,'  and  '  oivat  folks.'  Tiiey  never  alleviate 
talkini»-  about  them  from  Julv  to  etarnitv. 

'•  I  had  a  curious  convers.ition  about  politics  once, 
awav  ui)  to  the  riiilit  liere.  Do  vou  see  that  'ere 
house."  said  he.  "in  tlu^  field,  that's  got  a  lurch  to 
leeward,  like  a  North  River  sloop  struck  with  a 
squall  off  West  I^)int,  loi)si(led  like?  Jt  looks  like 
Seth  Pine,  a  tailor  down  to  Hartford,  that  had  one 
leu  shorter  than  t'otluM",  when  lu;  stood  at  ease  at 
militia  trainin',  a  restin' on  the  littlest  one.  Well,  I 
had  a  sj)ecial  IVolic  there;  the  last  time  I  passed  tiiis 
way.  I  lost  the  linch-pin  out  nf  my  iorrard  axle, 
and  I  turned  up  there  to  <^vi  it  sot  to  rights.  Just 
as  I  drove  throuiih  the  i»ate,  I  saw  the;  eldi'st  <»al  a 
makin'  for  the  house  (or  dear  life.  She  had  a  short 
petticoat  on  that  looked  like  a  kilt,  aiul  her  bare 
legs  j)Ut  WW.  in  mind  of  the  long  shanks  of  a  bittern 
down  in  a  rush  swamp,  a  drivin'  away  like  mad  full 
chisel  arter  a  froii^.  1  could  not  think  what  on  airlh 
was  the  matter.  Thinks  I,  She  wants  to  make  lu-r- 
self  look  decent  like  afore  1  gel  in  ;  slie  don't  like  t(» 
pull  her  stockings  on  afore  me.  So  I  j)ulls  ud  the 
old  horse  and  let  her  have  a  fair  start.  Well,  v/;ion 
1  came  to  the  tloor,  I  heard  a  pro|)er  scuddin' ;  there 
uras  a  regular    flight    into  Egypt,  jist  such  a  noise 


kmaker, 
r  out  of 
of  tlieir 
;  of  the 
y,'  and 
iillc'viatt,' 

cs  once, 
luit  'ere 
lurcli  to 

with  a 
)ks  like 
lad  one 

ease  at 

Well,  I 
sva\  this 
rd  axle, 
>.  »Jnst 
St  oiil  a 

a  short 
er  bare 

bittern 
»ad  full 
)n  airth 
k(;  lier- 

likc  to 

ut)  the 
1,  vvhon 
;  there 
I  noise 


"^       .   ** 


■^>^^:- 


\ 


S^;<>xc;^ 


^' 


Mm    ■■ 


it 


)  •       I 

5i  il 


!^ 


Jit 


a 


SKTTixa  LI'  yoi:  (loVEiisuii. 


159 


is  Utile  cliildit-'n  make  wlieii  \\w  tuistross  coincft 
suddL-'uly  into  sehool,  :ill  u  luiddliu'  and  scroudgin' 
into  their  seats,  as  quiciv  as  wink.  '  Dear  nie !  says 
tlie  old  woman,  as  she  pnt  iier  iu'ad  out  of  a  brokiMi 
window  to  avail  who  it  was,  '  is  it  you,  Mr.  Slick  ? 
I  snigjj^ers,  if  you  didn't  frighten  ns  properly  ;  wc 
actilly  tliought  it  was  the  sherilf;  do  come  in,' 

"  Voor  thing,  she  looked  half  starved  and  half 
savage  ;  hunger  and  temper  had  made  proper  strong 
lines  in  her  face,  like  water  Anrows  in  a  plougiied 
field;  she  looked  bony  and  thin,  like  a  horse  that 
has  had  more  work  tl.an  oats,  and  had  a  wicked  ex- 
pression, as  thongli  it  warn't  over  safe  to  come  loo 
near  her  heels, —  an  everiastin' kicker.  '  You  may 
come  out,  John,'  said  she  to  her  husband,  '  it's  only 
Mr.  Slick  ;'  and  out  canie  .lohn  froni  under  the  bed 
backwards,  on  all  fours,  like  an  ox  out  of  the  shoein' 
frame,  or  a  lobster  skullin'  wron<^  eend  foremost ;  he 
looked  as  wild  as  a  hawk.  Well,  I  swan,  I  thought 
I  should  have  split,  —  I  could  hardly  keep  Ironi 
bursting  right  out  with  larfter;  he  was  al!  covered 
with  feathers,  lint,  and  dust,  the  savins  of  all  the 
sweepins  since  the  house  was  built,  shovtul  under 
there  for  tidiness.  lie  actilly  sneezed  for  the  matter 
of  ten  minutes  ;  he  seemed  half-choked  with  the 
flaff  and  stuff.  th;it  came  out  with  him  like  a  cloud. 
Lord,  he  looked  like  a  goose  half  picked,  as  if  all  the 
]uills  were  gone,  but  the  pin-feathers  and  down 
were  left,  list  -eadv  for  sini>ein'  and  stullin'.  He 
put  nie  in   mind  of  a  sick    Adjutant,  a  great    tail 


160 


THE   C/JJCKM A  K /':/{. 


t 


hulkiiT  birfl,  that  comes  from  tlie  Kast  Indsjjics, 
ii'inost  as  liii^Ii  as  a  man,  and  most  as  knowin'  as  a 
liliKMiose.  I'd  a  Ljiii  a  liuiulrLHl  dollars  to  liavi;  had 
that  chap  as  a  show  at  a  fair  ;  tar  and  fuathcrs  wain't 
half  as  natLTul.  You've  seen  u  ;;al  hotij  larf  and 
cry  at  the  same  tinie,  hain't  you?  Well,  I  hope  I 
may  be  shot  if  I  couldn't  have  done  the  same.  To 
Bee  that  critter  come  like  a  turkey  out  of  a  bai;  at 
Christmas,  to  be  fir(»il  at  for  ten  cents  a  shot,  was  as 
good  as  a  play ;  but  to  look  roimd  and  see  the 
poverty  —  ti>e  hal!'  naked  children,  the  old  pine 
stumps  for  chairs;  a  simdl  bin  of  poor,  watery,  yaller 
potatoes  in  the  cornier;  da\li<j:ht  throiii^h  the  sides 
and  roof  of  the  house,  lookin*;  like  the  tarn  d  seams 
of  a  ship,  all  black  where  the  smoke  i^ot  out;  no 
utensils  for  cookin'  or  eatin',  and  starvation  wroU;  as 
plain  as  a  handbill  on  their  holler  cheeks,  skinny 
(iniiers,  and  sunk  eves  —  went  riiiht  straight  to  the 
heart.  I  do  declare  I  believe  I  should  have  cried, 
onlv  they  didn't  seem  to  mind  it  themselves.  Thev 
had  been  used  to  it ;  like  a  man  that's  married  to  a 
thunclerin'  u<^ly  wife,  he  gets  so  accustomed  to  the 
look  of  her  everlastin'  dismal  mug,  that  he  don't 
think  her  uizlv  at  all. 

•'  Well,  there  was  another  chap  a  settin'  by  the 
fire,  and  he  </id  look  as  if  he  saw  it,  and  felt  it  too  ; 
he  didn't  seem  over  half  pleased,  you  may  depend, 
lie  was  the  district  schoolmaster,  and  he  told  me  he 
was  takin'  a  spi'll  at  boardin'  there,  for  it  was  their 
turn  to  keep  him.     Tliinks  I   to  myself,  Poor  devil 


SETVING   UP   FOR   GOVEnSuR. 


161 


you've  broni^lit  vour  pi^s  to  a  [)r('tty  inark(?t,  thal's  a 
fact.  1  see  hoNV  it  is,  llu;  IJIuenoses  can't  ciplicr' 
Tlie  cat's  out  of  tlio  l)aii^  "ow  ;  it's  no  wondiM-  tlicy 
don't  go  alicaii,  for  tliey  don't  kjiow  notiiin' ;  the 
'  sciioolinaster  is  aijiond,'  witi»  t.ic  devil  to  it,  for  ho 
has  no  home  at  all.  Why  'Sfpiire,  you  tnighl  jist  a« 
well  (ixpect  a  horse  to  «;()  ri-^ht  olTin  j^ear.  before  lu? 
Is  halter  broke,  as  a  liluenose  to  lict  on  in  tiie  world. 
wht-'U  lu;  has  i;()t  no  sehoolin'. 

"  Hut  to  get  bark  t»»  my  story.  *  Well,'  says  I, 
'  liow's  tinu's  with  you,  Mrs.  Spry?"  *  Dull,'  says 
sbe,  'very  dull;  tlu're's  no  niaikets  now,  tilings 
don't  fetch  iiolhin'.'  Thinks  I,  some  I'olks  hadn't 
ougbt  to  complain  of  markets,  for  they  don't  raise 
nothin'  to  sell,  but  I  didn't  say  so  ;  for  port'rft/  is  keen  . 
enough^  without  slmri  niut/  i(s  ed(/e  bif  jxtkin  fan  at 
it.  '  Potatoes,'  says  I,  *  will  fetcli  a  good  price  this 
fall,  for  it's  a  sb(»rt  crop,  in  a  general  way;  how's 
your'n?'  'Grand,'  says  she,  'as  comph't«  as  ever 
you  seed ;  our  tops  were  small  and  didn't  look  vvtjil  ; 
but  we  have  the  handsomest  bottoms,  it's  generally 
allowed,  in  all  our  place  ;  you  never  seed  the  beat  of 
them  ;  tlu^v  arti  actilly  worth  l(»okin'  at.'  1  vow  I 
had  to  takt;  a  chaw  of  tobaccy  to  keep  from  sm)rting 
right  out,  it  sounded  so  queer  like.  Thinks  1  to  my- 
self. Old  lady,  it's  a  pity  sou  couldn't  be  changed 
eend  for  eend  then,  as  some  folks  do  their  stockings  : 
;t  would  improve  tiie  look  of  your  dial-plate  amazinly 
then,  that's  a  fact. 

*' Now  there  was  human  natur,  'Squire,"  said  the 
11 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


162 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


.: 


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*. 


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1»* 


Clockmaker,  "  Jiere  was  pride  even  in  that  hovel.  It 
is  found  in  rags  as  well  as  kings'  robes,  —  where 
butter  is  spread  witli  the  thumb  as  well  as  the  silver 
knife  ;  natiir'  is  nnfnr'  wherever  you.  jind  it. 

"  Jist  then,  in  came  one  or  two  neighbors  to  see 
the  sport,  for  they  took  me  for  a  sheriff,  or  constable, 
or  something  of  that  breed,  and  when  they  saw  it 
was  me  they  sot  down  to  hear  the  news  ;  they  fell 
right  to  at  politics  as  keen  as  anything,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  dish  of  real  Connecticut  slapjacks,  or  hominy  ; 
or  what  is  better  still,  a  glass  of  real  genuine  splen- 
did mint  julep;  w/te-eu-np,  it  fairly  makes  my  mouth 
water  to  think  of  it.  '  I  wonder,'  says  one,  '  what 
they  will  do  for  us  this  winter  in  the  House  of  As- 
sembly ? '  '  Nothin','  says  the  other, 'they  never  do 
nothin'  but  what  the  great  people  at  Halifax  tell  'em. 
'Squire  Yeoman  is  the  man ;  he'll  pay  up  the  great 
folks  this  hitch  ;  he'll  let  'em  have  their  own  ;  he's 
jist  the  boy  that  can  do  it.'  Says  I,  '  I  wish  I  could 
say  all  men  were  as  honest  then,  for  1  am  afeard 
there  are  a  great  many  won't  pay  me  up  this  winter  ; 
I  should  like  to  trade  with  your  friend;  who  is  he?' 
'  VVhy,'  says  he,  '  he  is  the  member  for  Isle  Sable 
County,  and  if  he  don't  let  the  great  folks  have  it, 
it's  a  pity.'  '  Who  do  you  call  great  folks  ?  for,' 
said  I,  *  I  vow  I  haven't  seed  one  since  I  canie  here. 
The  only  one  that  1  know  that  comes  near  hand  to 
one  is  Nicholas  Overknocker,  that  lives  all  along 
shore,  about  INIargaret's  Piay,  and  he  is  a  great 
man,  —  it  takes  a  yoke  of  oxen  to  drag  him.     When 


"; ''  tl 


SETTING   UP  FOR   GOVEkNOR. 


163 


I  first  seed  him,  says  I,  "  AVhat  on  airtli  is  the  matter 
.y  that  man  ?  has  he  the  dropsy  ?  for  he  is  actilly  the 
greatest  man  I  ever  seed  ;  he  must  weigh  the  matter 
or'  ^WG  hundred  weight ;  he'd  cut  three  inches  on 
the  rib  ;  he  must  have  a  proper  siglit  of  lard,  that 
c  hap."  No,'  says  I,  '  don't  call  'em  great  men,  for 
tliere  ain't  a  ci'eat  man  in  the  countrv,  that's  a  fact ; 
there  ain't  one  tii.  t  desarves  tlie  name ;  folks  will 
only  larf  at  you  if  you  talk  that  way.  There  may  be 
some  rich  men,  aud  I  believe  there  be,  and  it's  a 
pity  there  warn't  more  on  'em,  and  a  still  greater 
pity  they  have  so  little  spirit  or  enterprise  among 
'em  ;  but  a  country  is  none  the  worse  having  rich 
men  in  it,  you  may  depend.  Great  folks!  well, 
come,  that's  a  good  joke,  that  bangs  the  bush.  No, 
my  friend,'  says  I,  '  the  meat  that's  at  the  top  of  the 
barrel,  is  sometimes  not  so  good  as  that  that's  a  little 
grain  lower  down :  the  upper  and  lower  eends  art 
plagjiy  apt  to  have  a  little  taint  in  'em,  hut  the  middle 
ts  always  c/ood.' 

"'Well,'  says  the  Pjluenose, 'perhaps  they  bean't 
great  men,  exactly  in  that  sense,  but  they  are  great 
men  compared  to  us  poor  folks;  and  they  eat  up  all 
the  revenue ;  there's  nothin'  left  for  roads  and 
bridges;  they  want  to  ruin  the  country,  that's  a 
tiict.'  '  Want  to  ruin  your  granny,'  says  I  (for  it 
/aised  my  dander  to  hear  the  critter  talk  such  non- 
sense) ;  '  I  did  hear  of  one  chap,'  says  I,  '  that  sot 
fire  to  his  own  house  once,  up  to  Squantum.  but  the 
cunnin'  rascal    insured  it  first ;  now  how  can  your 


164 


THE   CLOCK  MAKER. 


•>* 


i 


ill 

;lt  , 

'  '-i; 


u 


groat  folks  niin  tho  country  without  ruinin'  thorn- 
Reives,  unless  they  liave  insured  the  Province?  Our 
folks  will  insure  fill  creation  for  half  nothin',  hut  I 
never  heerd  tell  of  a  country  hein<^  insured  ag'in 
rich  niiMi.  Now  i^'you  ever  ijo  to  Wall  Street  to  or^t 
such  a  policy,  leave  the  door  oi)on  behind  you,  tliat's 
all  ;  or  they'll  grab  right  hold  of  you,  shave  your 
head  and  blister  it,  clap  a  strait-jacket  on  you,  and 
whip  you  right  into  a  madhouse,  afore  you  can  say 
Jack  Robinson.  No,  your  great  men  are  nothiu' 
but  rich  men,  and  I  can  tell  you  for  your  comfort, 
there's  nothiu'  to  hinder  vou  from  bein'  rich  too,  if 
you  will  take  the  same  means  as  they  did.  They 
were  once  all  as  poor  folks  as  you  be,  or  their  fathers 
afore  them  ;  for  I  know  their  whole  breed,  seed,  and 
generation,  and  they  wouldn't  thank  you  to  tell  them 
that  you  knew  their  f ithers  and  grandfithers,  I  tell 
you.  If  ever  yon  want  the  loan  of  a  hundred  pounds 
from  any  of  them,  keep  dark  about  that ;  see  as  far 
ahead  as  you  please,  but  it  ain't  always  pleasant  to 
have  folks  see  too  far  back.  Perhaps  they  be  a 
little  proud  or  so,  but  that's  nateral ;  all  folks  that 
grow  up  right  ofT,  like  a  mushroom  in  one  night,  are 
apt  to  think  no  small  beer  of  themselves.  A  cab- 
baire  has  pla({uv  lar<ie  leaves  to  the  bottom,  and 
spreads  them  out  as  wide  as  an  old  woman's  petti- 
coats, to  hide  the  ground  it  sprung  from,  and  con- 
ceal its  extraction,  but  what's  that  to  you  ?  If  the) 
jjet  too  large  salaries,  dock  'em  down  at  once,  but 
don't  keep  talkin'  about  it  for  everlastinly.     If  you 


i- 


SETTING   UP   FOR   GOVERNOR. 


165 


a<i  in 


petti- 


nave  too  many  sarvants,  pay  some  on  'em  oiT,  or 
when  they  quit  your  s:irvic<^  don't  hire  others  in 
their  room,  that's  all ;  but  you  miss  your  mark 
when  you  keep  firin'  away  the  whole  blessed  time 
that  way. 

"  •  1  went  out  a  guimin'  when  I  was  a  boy,  and 
father  went  with  me  to  teaeh  me.  Weil,  the  first 
flock  of  plover  1  seed  I  let  slip  at  'em,  and  missed 
'em.  Says  fatlK-r,  says  he,  "  What  a  blockhead 
you  be,  Sam  !  that's  your  own  f  lult ;  they  were  too 
far  off;  you  hadn't  ought  to  have  fired  so  soon.  At 
Bunker's  Ilill  we  let  the  British,  come  rijiht  on  till 
we  seed  the  whites  of  their  eyes,  and  then  we  let 
them  have  it  slap  bano."  Well,  I  felt  kinder  grigged 
at  missin'  my  shot,  and  I  didn't  over  half  like  to  be 
scolded  too  ;  so  says  I,  *•  Yes,  father ;  but  recollect 
you  had  a  mud  bank  to  hide  behind,  where  you  were 
proper  safe,  and  you  had  a  rest  for  yonr  guns  too ; 
but  as  soon  as  you  seed  a  little  more  than  the  whites 
of  their  eyes,  you  run  for  your  dear  life,  full  split; 
and  so  I  don't  see  much  to  brag  on  in  that  arter  all, 
so  come  now."  '•  I'll  teach  you  to  talk  that  v;ay, 
you  puppy  you,"  said  he,  '•  of  that  glorious  day ;  "  and 
he  fetched  me  a  wipe  that  I  do  believe,  if  I  hain't  a 
dodged,  would  have  spoiled  my  gunnin'  for  that 
hitch;  so  I  gave  him  a  wide  berth  arter  that  all  day. 
Well,  the  next  time  I  missed,  says  I,  *•  She  hung  fire 
30  evei'lastinly,  it's  no  wonder;  "  and  the  next  miss, 
says  I,  "  The  powder  is  no  good,  I  vow."  Well,  I 
mssed  every  shot,  and  I  had  an  excuse  for  every 


I>(' 


166 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


-jl,! 
■  5  (  I 


one  on  'cm :  the  flint  svas  bad,  or  she  fla.sh(!(l  in  the 
pan,  or  the  shot  scaled,  or  soniethinj^  or  another  ; 
and  when  all  wouldn't  do,  1  swore  the  ^un  was  no 
good  at  all.  "  Now,"  says  father  (and  he  edgi'd  up 
ail  the  time,  to  pay  me  off  for  that  hit  at  his  Dunker 
Hill  story,  which  was  the  only  shot  1  didn't  miss) 
"you  hain't  got  the  right  reason  arter  all.  It  was 
your  own  fault,  Sam." 

"'Now  that's  jist  the  case  with  you-;  you  may 
blame  Ranks,  and  Council,  and  House  of  Assembly, 
and  "  the  great  men,"  till  you  are  tired,  but  it's  all 
your  own  fault ;  youve  no  spirit  and  no  enterprise  ; 
you  ivant  industry  and  economy  ;  use  tliem,  and  yoiCll 
soon  he  as  rich  os  the  peoph  at  ILdifax  you  call  great 
folks.  They  didn't  grow  rich  by  talkin',  but  by 
workin' ;  instead  of  lookin'  arter  other  folks'  busi- 
ness, they  looked  about  the  keenest  arter  their  own. 
You  are  like  the  machinery  of  one  of  our  boats,  — 
good  enough,  and  strong  enough,  but  of  no  airthly 
use  till  you  get  the  steam  up  ;  you  want  to  be  set  in 
motion,  and  then  you'll  go  ahead  like  anything,  you 
may  depend.  Gice  up  politics.  It's  a  barren  fields 
and  tvell  watched  too  ;  where  one  critter  jumps  a  fence 
into  a  good  field  and  gets  fat,  more  nor  twenty  are 
chased  round  and,  round,  hy  a  ivhole  pack  of  yelpin^ 
curs,  till  they  are  fairly  heat  out,  and  eend  hy  bein^ 
half  starved,  and  are  at  the  liftinL  at  last.  \  Look  to 
tjour  farms,  your  water  powers,  your  fisheries,  and 
factories.  In  short'  says  I,  puttin'  on  my  hat  and 
startin',  '  look  to  yourselves,  and  dont  look  to  others.' " 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


A    CUllK    FOR    CONCKIT. 


"  It's  a  most  curious,  unaccountable  thing,  but 
it's  a  fact,"  said  the  Clockmakor,  "  the  Bluenoses  are 
so  conceited,  tliey  think  tliey  know  everytiiing ;  and 
vet  there  ain't  a  liviu'  soul  in  Nova  Scotia  knows  his 
own  business  real  complete,  fanner  or  fishiM'inan, 
lawyer  or  doctor,  or  any  other  folk.  A  farmer  said 
to  me  one  day,  up  to  Pugnose's  inn,  at  River  Philip, 
*  Mr.  Slick,'  says  he,  '  I  allot  this  ain't  ''  a  bread  coun- 
try ;^^  I  intend  to  sell  off  the  house  I  improve,  and 
ofo  to  the  States.'  '  If  it  ain't  a  bread  country,'  said 
T,  '  I  never  seed  one  that  was.  There  is  more  bread 
used  here,  made  of  best  superfine  flour,  and  No.  1 
Genesee,  than  in  any  other  p-ace  of  the  same  popu- 
lation in  the  imivarse.  You  m'oht  as  well  say  it 
ain't  a  clock  country,  when  to  my  sartin  knowledo;e, 
there  are  more  clocks  than  Pjibles  in  it.  I  guess 
vou  expect  to  raise  vour  bread  ready  made,  don't 
you  ?  Well,  there's  only  one  class  of  our  free  and 
enliiihtened  citizens  that  can  do  tlia':,  and  that's  them 
that  are  born  with  silver  spoons  in  their  mouths. 
It's  a  pity  you  wasn't  availed  of  this  truth,  afore  you 


168 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


si 


■ii! 


-  :l 


up  killocli  and  oft';  take  my  advice  and  bide  where 
you  1)(\' 

"AVcll,  the  (isiiennen  are  jist  as  bad.  Tlie  next 
time  you  ^o  into  the  fisb-markot  at  Halifax,  stump 
some  of  the  old  hands  ;  savs  vou.  '  How  many  fins 
has  a  cod,  at  a  word?*  and  I'll  licpiidate  the  bet  'f 
you  lose  it.  When  I've  been  alon^-shore  afore  now, 
a  vendin'  of  my  clocks,  and  they  bcoan  to  raise  my 
dander,  by  belittling;  the  Yankees,  I  always  brouiiht 
them  np  by  a  round  turn  by  that  requirement,  *  How 
many  fins  has  a  cod,  at  a  word  ?'  AVell,  they  never 
could  answer  it ;  and  then,  says  I,  '  When  you  larn 
your  own  business,  I  guess  it  will  be  time  enough  to 
teach  other  folks  their'n.* 

"  How  different  it  is  with  our  men  folk.  If  they 
can't  get  through  a  question,  how  beautifully  they 
can  go  round  it,  can't  they  ?  Nothin'  never  stops 
them ;  I  had  two  brothers,  Josiah  and  Eldad,  one 
was  a  lawyer,  and  the  other  a  doctor.  They  were  a 
talkin'  about  their  examinations  one  night,  at  a 
hvj.skin'  frolic,  np  to  Governor  Hall's  big  stone  barn 
at  Slickville.  Says  Josy,  '  When  I  was  examined, 
the  Judge  axed  me  all  about  real  estate  ;  and,  says 
ho,  "Josiah,"  says  he,  "what's  a  fee?"  ''Why," 
says  I,  "  Judge,  it  depends  on  the  natur  of  the  case. 
In  a  common  one,"  says  I,  "  I  call  six  dollars  a  pretty 
<air  one  ;  but  lawyer  Webster  has  got  afore  now,  I've 
heerd  tell,  one  thousand  dollars,  and  that  J  do  call  a 
fee."  Well,  the  Judge  he  larfed  ready  to  split  his 
Bides  (thinks  I.  Old  chap,  you'll  bust  like  a  steam 


where 

B  next 

stiinip 

y  fins 

bet  'f 

e  now, 

se  my 

ought 

'  How 

never 

u  hirn 

ugh  to 

f  they 
y  they 
r  stops 
id,  one 
were  a 
,  at  a 
e  barn 
mined, 
d,  says 

Whv," 
e  case. 
.  pretty 
w,  I've 
?  call  a 
)lit  his 

steam 


A    CURE   FOR   CONCEIT. 


i»;y 


biler,  if  you  hain't  got  a  safety  valve  sonxivvhere  or 
another),  and  says  lie,  "  \  vow,  tliat's  superfine  ;  I'll 
indorse  vour  certificate  for  you,  vounii  nuui ;  tlicre's 
no  fear  of  you  ;  you'll  pass  the  insi)ecLi()u  brand  any- 
how." 

•' '  Well,'  says  Kldad,  '  I  hope  I  may  be  skinned  il 
the  same  thing  didn't  e'enamost  haj)j)en  to  me  at  my 
examination.  They  axed  me  a  'nation  sight  of  ques- 
tions. Some  on  'em  I  could  answer,  and  some  on 
'em  no  soul  could,  right  olF  the  reel  at  a  word,  with- 
out a  little  cii)herin';  at  last  they  axed  me.''  I  low 
would  you  calculate  to  put  a  patient  into  a  sweat 
when  conmion  modes  wouldn't  work  nohow?" 
''Why"  says  I,  "I'd  do  as  Dr.  Comfort  Payne 
sarved  father."  "  And  how  was  that  ? "  said  thev. 
'•  Why."  says  I,  "  he  put  him  into  such  a  sweat  as  I 
never  seed  him  in  afore,  in  all  my  born  days,  since 
I  was  raised,  bv  sendinii  him  in  his  bill,  and  if  that 
didn't  sweat  him  it's  a  pity  ;  it  was  an  actire  dose 
you  may  depend."  ''  I  guess  that  'ere  chap  has  cut 
his  eye-teeth,"  said  the  President;  "  let  him  pass  as 
np  probated.'" 

"  They  both  knovved  well  enough  ;  they  only 
made  as  if  they  didn't,  to  poke  a  little  fun  at  tiiem, 
for  the  Slick  family  were  counted  in  a  general  way 
to  be  pretty  coTisiderable  cute. 

"  They  reckon  themselves  here  a  chalk  above  us 
Yankees,  but  I  guess  they  have  a  wrinkle  or  two  to 
irrow  afore  they  progress  ahead  on  us  yet.  If  they 
hain't  got  a  full  cargo  of  conceit  here,  then  I  never 


I] 


t-^ 


ill 


I 


1'' 

5)1, 


170 


THE   CLOCKMAKER, 


500(1  a  load,  that's  all.     They  liavo  the  hold  chock 
full,  (lock  piled  up  to  tho  pump  haudU's,  and  scuppers 
under  water.     They  larnt  that  of  tlie   liiitisli,  who 
are  actilly  so  full  (jf  it,  they  leiuiud  me  of  Commo- 
dore   'i'rij).     WluMi    ho  was    about    half  shaved   lie 
thought  everybody  druidc  but  himself.     I  never  liked 
the  last  war;   I   thought  it  uuuatoral.  and    that  we 
hadn't  ought  to  have  taken  hold  of  it  at  all,  and  so 
most  of  our    New    Enixland  folks    thous.dit;  and    I 
wasn't  sorry  to  hear  Giueral    Doarborne  was  beat, 
soein'  wx»  had  no  call  to  no  into  Canada.      I>ut  when 
the  Guerriere  was  caj)tivated  by  our  old   Ironsivles, 
the  Constitution,  1  did  fool  lifted  uj)  amost  as  high 
as    a  stalk   of  Varijinnv  corn    amou''-    Connecticut 
middlins  ;  I  ijrew  two  inches  taller,  I  vow,  the  ni<»ht 
I  heerd  that  news.     15rag.  says  I,  is  a  .'^ood  dog,  but 
Holdfast  is  bettor.     The   liritish  navids  had  been  a 
braggiu'  and  a  hectorin'    so    long,  that  when    they 
landed  in  our  cities  they  swaggered    o'enamosc    as 
much  as  Uncle  Pel  eg  (big  Pel  eg  as  he  was  called) ; 
and  when  he  walked  up  the  centre  of  one  of  our 
narrow  Boston  streets,  he  used  to  swing  his  arms  on 
each  side  of  him,  so  that  folks  had  to  clear  out  of 
both  footpaths ;  he's  cut,  afore  now,  the  fingers  of 
both  hands  agin   the  sliop  windows  on  each  side  of 
the  street.     Many  the  poor  feller's  crupper  bone  he's 
tmashed,  with  his  groat  thick  boots,  a  throwin'  out 
his  feet  afore  him  e'enamost  out  of  sight,  when  he 
was  in  full  rig  a  swigglin'  away  at  the  top  of  his  gait 
Well,  thev  cut  as  manv  shines  as  Uncle  Pelcij.     One 


A    CURE   i'ijR    CONCEIT. 


171 


(• 


hock 


they 


frigato  they  guessed  would  captivate,  s'mU,  or  buni 
our  whole  navy.  Says  a  naval,  one  (hiy,  to  the 
8kij)|)er  of  a  lisliiiif;'  boat  lliat  he  tooU,  havs  he,  '  Js  it 
true,  (Joinniodore  Decatur's  s\yord  is  made  of  an  ohl 
iron  hoo[>  ?  '  '  W't;!!,'  says  tlie  sUipper,  '  I'm  not  quite 
certified  as  to  tiiat,  seein'  as  I  never  sot  eyes  on  it; 
but  I  i,aiess  if  lie  ijets  a  cliance  he'll  show  you  the 
temper  of  it  sonu!  of  these  days,  anyhow.' 

''I  mind  once  a  ilrilish  man-o'-war  took  one  oC 
our  lioston  vessels,  and  ordered  all  hands  on  board, 
uad  sent  a  i)arty  to  scuttle  her  ;  well,  they  scuttled 
the  fowls  and  the  old  particular  <^enuine  rum,  but 
they  obliviated  their  arrand  and  left  her.  Well, 
next  day  anotluM*  friijate  (for  they  were  as  thick  as 
toads  arter  a  rain)  comes  near  her,  and  fires  a  shot 
for  her  to  brini»"  to.  No  answer  was  madi',  there 
bein'  no  livin'  soul  on  I  »ard,  and  another  shot  fired, 
still  no  answer.  '  Why,  what  on  airth  is  the  me;',nin' 
of  this  ?  '  said  the  captain  ;  '  why  don't  they  haul  down 
that  damn  goose  and  gridiron  ?  '  (That's  what  he 
called  our  eagle  and  stars  on  the  flag.)  'Why,'  says 
the  first  leftenant,  '  I  guess  they  are  all  dead  men  ; 
that  shot  frightened  them  to  death.'  '  They  are 
afeared  to  show  their  noses,'  says  another,  'lest  they 
should  be  shaved  oif  by  our  shots.'  '  They  are  all 
down  below  a  "  calculatitc  "  their  loss,  I  guess,'  savs 
a  third.  '  Fll  take  mv  'daw,'  savs  the  captain,  '  it's 
some  Yankee  trick, — a  torjjcdo  in  her  bottom,  or 
«ome  such  trap;  we'll  let  her  be;'  and  sure  enough, 
next  day,  back  she  came  to  shore  of  herself.     '  I'll 


m 

h 

^^1 


n 


172 


THE   CL  0  CKMA  KEIi. 


!  k  1 


•    \, 


li 


give  you  a  qiuirtcM-  of  an  hour/  says  tlie  captain  of 
the  Guerricre  to  ills  men,  'to  talu;  tliat  'ere  Vaul<eQ 
f'rijiate,  the  Constitution'  1  giu'ss  lie  ("oimd  his  mis- 
take wlieie  lie  diihi't  exi)ect  it,  without  any  oreat 
sarch  for  it  either.  Yes  (to  eventuate  my  story),  it 
did  nie  good  ;  I  felt  dreadful  nice,  I  promise  yon. 
It  was  as  lovely  as  bitters  of  a  cold  mornin'.  Our 
folks  beat  'em  arter  that  so  often,  they  got  a  little 
grain  too  nuich  conceit  also.  They  got  their  heels 
too  hi<ih  ibr  their  boots,  and  be^an  to  walk  like 
Uncle  Peleg  too,  so  that  when  the  Chesapcjike  got 
whipped  I  warn't  sorry.  We  could  spare  that  one, 
and  it  made  our  navals  look  round,  like  a  feller  who 
gets  a  hoist,  to  see  who's  a  larfm  at  him.  It  made 
'eiu  brush  the  dust  off,  and  walk  on  rather  sheepish. 
It  cut  their  combs,  that's  a  fact.  The  war  did  us  a 
plaguy  sight  of  good  in  more  ways  than  one,  and  it 
did  the  British  some  good,  too.  It  taught  'em  not 
to  carry  their  chins  too  higii,  for  fear  they  shouldn't 
see  the  gutters,  —  a  uustake  that's  spoiled  many  a 
bran  new  coat  and  trousers  afore  now. 

"  Well,  these  Bluenoses  have  caught  this  disease, 
as  folks  do  the  Scotch  fiddle,  by  shakin'  hands  along 
with  the  British.  Conceit  has  become  here,  as  Doc- 
tor Rush  says  (you  have  heerd  tell  of  him  ?  he's  the 
iirst  man  of  the  aoe  ;  and  it's  ijenerallv  allowed  our 
doctors  take  the  shine  off  of  all  the  world),  ac- 
climated; it  is  citizenized  among  'em  ;  and  the  only 
cure  is  a  real  good  quiltin'.  I  met  a  first  chop  Col- 
chester gag  this  summer,  a  goin'  to  the  races  to  Hal 


.*1 


A    CURE  FOR   COyCICfT, 


173 


^^rciit 


ifax,  and  lie  knowcd  as  much  about  racin',  I  do  sup- 
pose, as  a  Clioclaw  Iui;ian  tloi'S  of  a  railroad.  \Vt  II 
lie  was  a  piiu-.in'  of  Ids  Inu'se,  aud  ruunin'  on  like 
staticc.  lie  was  hc^ol,  he  sai<l.  by  Uonei'svalles, 
which  was  better  than  any  horse  that  ever  was  seen, 
because  Ik^  was  onc(»  in  a  duUc's  stal)le  in  Kni^laiid. 
U  was  only  a  man  that  had  blood  liUe  a  lord,  said  he, 
that  knew  what  blood  in  a  h(u*s(!  was.  Captain 
Currycomb,  an  odiccr  at  Halifax,  had  sec^n  his  horse, 
and  praised  him  ;  and  that  was  enough  —  that 
stamped  him  —  that  Hxcnl  his  value.  It  was  like  the 
PresidcMit's  name  to  a  baidv-note.  —  it  makes  it  pass 
current.  *  Well,'  says  I, '  I  hain't  got  a  drop  of  bh)od 
in  me,  nothin'  stron<i;er  than  molasses  and  water,  I 
vow;  but  I  |L;uess  I  know  a  horse  when  I  see  him  for 
all  that,  and  1  don't  think  any  s^reat  shakes  of  your 
beast,  anyhow.  What  start  will  you  <fi\'e  me,'  says 
I,  'and  1  will  run  Old  Clav  au'in  von,  for  a  mile 
lick  riiiht  on  eend.'  "Ten  rods,'  said  he,  'for  twentv 
dollars.'  Well,  we  run,  and  I  made  Old  Clay  bite 
in  his  breath,  and  onlv  beat  hinj  bv  half  a  neck. 
'  A  tight  scratch,'  says  I,  '  that,  and  it  would  have 
sarved  me  riiiht  if  I  had  Ix^en  beat.  I  had  no  busi- 
ness  to  run  an  old  roadster  so  everlastin'  last ;  it 
ain't  fair  on  him,  is  it?'  Says  he,  '  I  will  doubde  the 
bet  and  start  even,  and  run  you  ag'iti  if  you  dare.' 
Well,'  says  I,  'since  1  won  the  last,  it  wouldn't  be 
pretty  not  to  give  you  a  chance ;  I  do  suppose  I 
oughtn't  to  rei'use,  but  I  don't  love  to  abuse  my  beast 
oy  knockin'  him  about  this  way ' 


ii 


ii 

If  a 


w 


174 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


Il 


II 


m 


t 


Hi 


!  ; 


m 


rrlli 


lit 


.Hi 


]■!» 


As  soon  as  the  money  was  staked,  I  said,  'iiadn't 
we  better,'  says  I,  '  draw  stakes  ?  that  'ere  blood 
horse  of  your'n  has  such  unconinion  particular 
bottom,  he'll  perhaps  leave  me  clean  out  of  sight. 
'No  fear  of  that.'  said  he,  larfin',  'but  he'll  beat  you 
easy,  anyhow.  No  flinchin','  says  he,  '  I'll  not  let  you 
go  back  of  the  bargain.  It's  ran  or  forfeit.'  '  Well,' 
says  I,  '  friend,  there  is  fear  of  it ;  your  horse  will 
leave  me  out  of  sight,  to  a  sartainty,  that's  a  fact,  for 
he  can't  keep  up  to  me  no  time.  I'll  drop  him,  hull 
down,  in  tu  tu's.'  If  Old  Clay  didn't  make  a  fool  of 
him,  it's  a  pity.  Didn't  he  gallop  pretty,  that's  all  ? 
He  walked  away  from  him,  jist  as  ihe  Chancellor 
Livingston  steamboat  passes  a  slooj)  at  anchor  in  the 
North  River.  Savs  I,  '1  told  von  vour  horse  would 
beat  me  clean  out  of  sioht,  but  you  wouldn't  believe 
me;  now,' says  1,  'I  will  tell  you  something  else. 
That  'ere  horse  will  help  you  to  lose  more  money  to 
Halifax  than  vou  are  a  thinkin'  on  ;  for  there  ain't  a 
beast  "one  down  there  that  won't  beat  him.  Me 
can't  run  a  bit,  and  you  may  tell  the  Britisli  captain 
I  say  so.  Take  him  home  and  sell  him  ;  buy  a  good 
yoke  of  oxe)i^  they  are  fast  enough  for  a  farmer ;  and 
give  up  blood  horses  to  them  that  can  afford,  to  keep 
stable-helps  to  tend  'em^  and  leave  hettin''  alone  to  them 
as  has  more  money  nor  wit,  and  can  afford  to  lose  their 
cash,  ivithout  thinkin''  aa'in  of  their  loss.'  '  When  1 
ft'ant  your  advice,'  said  he,  "  I  will  ask  it,'  most 
peskily  sulky.  '  You  niight  have  got  it  before  you 
ixed  for  it.'  said  T,  '  but  not  afore  you  wanted  it,  yoL 


A   CURE  FOR   CONCEIT. 


176 


may  dei)encl  on  it.  But  stop,'  said  I,  '  let's  see  that 
all's  right  afore  we  part ; '  so  I  counts  over  the 
fifteen  pounds  I  won  of  him,  note  by  note,  as  low  as 
anything,  on  purj)Ose  to  rile  him  ;  then  I  mounts 
Old  Clay  ag'in,  and  says  I,  '  Friend,  you  have  con- 
siderably the  advantage  of  me  this  hitch,  anyhow.' 
*  Possible  ! '  says  he,  '  how's  that  ?  '  '  Why,'  says  I, 
'  I  guess  you'll  return  r;ither  lighter  than  you  came, 
and  that's  more  nor  I  can  say,  anyhow  ; '  and  then 
1  gave  him  a  wink  and  a  jupe  of  the  head,  as  much 
as  to  say,  '  Do  you  take? '  and  rode  on  and  left  him 
starin'  and  scratchin'  his  head  like  a  feller  who's  lost 
his  road.  If  that  citizen  ain't  a  born  fool,  or  too  far 
gone  in  the  disease,  depend  on't,  he  found  '  a  cure 
for  conceitJ  " 


'■il 


-W 
i| 


i 


II 


1  ^ 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE    BLOWIN'   time. 


:! 


The  long,  rambling  dissertation  on  conceit,  to 
which  I  had  just  listened,  from  the  Clockmaker, 
forcibly  reminded  me  of  the  celebrated  aphorism 
^^ gnothi  seaiiton"  know  thyself,  which,  both  from  its 
great  antiquity  and  wisdom,  has  been  by  many  at- 
tributed to  an  oracle. 

With  all  his  shrewdness  to  discover,  and  his 
humor  to  ridicule  the  foibles  of  others,  Mr.  Slick 
was  blind  to  the  many  defects  of  his  own  character ; 
and  while  prescribing  ''  a  cure  for  conceit,"  exhibited 
in  all  he  said,  and  all  he  did,  the  most  overweening 
conceit  himself.  He  never  spoke  of  his  own  coun- 
trymen, without  calling  them  "the  most  free  and 
enlightened  citizens  on  the  face  of  the  airth,"'  or  as 
"takin'  the  shine  off  of  all  creation."  His  country 
he  boasted  to  be  the  "  best  atween  the  poles,"  "  the 
greatest  glory  under  heaven."  The  Yankees  he 
considered  (to  use  his  expression)  as  "  actilly  the 
class-leaders  in  knowledire  amono-  all  the  Ameri- 
cans,"  and  boasted  that  they  have  not  only  •"  gone 
'ihead  of  all  others,"  but  had  lately  arrived  at  that 


THE  BLOWIJSr   TIME. 


177 


most  enviable  ne  plus  ultra  point,  "  goin'  ahead  of 
themselves."  In  short,  he  entertained  no  doubt  that 
Slickville  was  the  finest  place  in  the  greatest  nation 
in  the  world,  and  the  Slick  family  the  wisest  fajnily 
in  it. 

I  was  about  calling  his  attention  to  this  national 
trait,  when  I  saw  him  draw  his  reins  under  his  foot 
(a  mode  of  driving  peculiar  to  himself,  when  he 
wished  to  economize  the  time  that  would  otherwise 
be  lost  by  an  unnecessary  delay),  and  taking  off  his 
hat  (which,  like  a  peddler's  pack,  contained  a  general 
assortment),  select  from  a  number  of  loose  cigars 
one  that  appeared  likely  "to  go,"  fis  he  called  it. 
Havincj  lighted  it  bv  a  lucifer,  and  ascertained  that 
it  was  ''  true  in  draft,"  he  resumed  his  reins,  and  re- 
marked, — 

"  This  must  be  an  everlastin'  fine  countrv  bevond 
all  doubt,  for  the  folks  have  nothin'  to  do  but  to  ride 
about  and  talk  politics.  In  winter,  when  the  ground 
is  covered  with  snow,  what  grand  times  they  have  a 
sleighin'  over  these  here  marshes  with  the  gals,  or 
playin'  ball  on  the  ice.  or  goin'  to  quiltin'  frolics  of 
nice  lon<>"  winter  eveninjrs,  and  then  a  drivin'  home 
like  mad  by  moonlight.  Natur'  meant  that  season 
on  purpose  for  courtin'.  A  little  tidy  scrumptious 
looking  sleigh,  a  real  clipper  of  a  horse,  a  string  of 
bells  as  long  as  a  string  of  inions  round  his  neck, 
and  a  sprig  on  his  back,  lookin'  for  all  the  world 
like  a  bunch  of  apples  broke  off  at  gatherin'  time, 
and  a  sweetheart  alongside,  all  muffled  up  but  her 
12 


it;  fl 


■  I 
111 


t 

u 


m 


W: 


178 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


\  i. 


II 


eyes  and  lips  —  the  one  lookin'  right  into  you,  and 
the  other  talkin'  riglit  at  you  —  is  e'enaniost  enoug'* 
to  drive  one  ravin',  tarin',  distracted  mad  with  pleas 
nre,  ain't  it?  And  then  the  dear  critters  say  th* 
bells  make  such  a  din,  there's  no  licarin'  one's  self 
speak;  so  they  put  their  pretty  little  mugs  close  u;* 
to  your  face,  and  talk,  talk,  talk,  till  one  can't  helf 
looking  right  at  them  instead  of  the  horse,  and  ther 
whap  you  both  go  capsized  into  a  snowdrift  to<^{»lh.er 
skins,  cushions,  and  all.  And  then  to  see  the  littl* 
critter  shake  herself  when  she  gets  up,  like  a  duc^ 
landin'  from  a  pond,  a  chatterin'  away  all  the  timtj 
like  a  canary  bird,  and  you  a  haw-hawin'  with  pleas- 
ure, is  fun  alive,  you  may  depend.  In  this  way 
Bluenose  gets  led  on  to  offer  himself  as  a  lovier, 
afore  he  knows  where  he  bees. 

"  But  when  he  gets  married,  he  recovers  his  eye 
si^ht  in  little  less  than  half  no  time.  He  soon  finds  he'v 
treed  ;  his  flint  is  fixed  then,  you  may  depend.  She 
larns  him  how  vinegar  is  made  :  '  Put  plenty  of  sugar 
into  the  ivaler  oforehand,  my  dear^  says  she,  '  if  yov 
want  to  make  it  real  sharp.*  The  larf  is  on  the  other 
side  of  his  mouth  then.  If  his  sleigh  gets  upsot,  it's 
no  longer  a  funny  matter,  I  tell  you ;  he  catches  it 
rijiht  and  left.  Her  eves  d(m't  look  rio;ht  up  to  his'n 
anv  nore,  nor  her  little  ton"ue  rinof,  rinof  rinjj,  like 
a  bell  any  longer;  but  a  great  big  hood  covers  her 
head,  and  a  whappin'  great  muff  covers  her  face,  and 
she  lOoks  like  a  ba^  of  soiled  cloth^'s  aijoin'  to  the 
brook  to  be  washed.     When   the^  get  out,  she  don't 


THE  BLOW  IN'   TIME. 


179 


helf 
ther 


^1) 


ler 


miit  any  more  for  him  to  walk  lock  and  lock  with 
her,  l)iit  they  march  like  a  horse  and  a  cow  to  water, 
one  in  each  outter.  If  there  ain't  a  transmoorifica- 
tion  it's  a  pity.  The  difference  atween  a  wife  and  a 
sweetheart  is  near  about  as  ixreat  as  there  is  between 
new  and  hard  cider:  a  man  never  tires  of  puttii\' 
one  to  his  lip,  and  makes  plaguy  wry  fiices  at  t'other. 
It  makes  me  so  kinder  wamblecropt  when  I  think  or. 
it,  that  I'm  afeared  to  venture  on  matrimony  at  all. 
I  have  seen  some  Bluenoses  most  properly  bit,  you 
may  depend.  You've  seen  a  boy  a  slidin'  on  a  most 
beautiful  smooth  bit  of  ice,  hain't  you,  larfin',  and 
h()o{)iir,  and  haliowin'  like  one  possessed,  when  pres- 
ently souse  he  goes  in  over  head  and  ears?  How 
he  outs,  fins,  and  flops  about,  and  blows  like  a  por- 
poise properly  frightened,  don't  he?  and  when  he 
gets  out,  there  he  stands,  all  shiveriu'  and  shakin', 
and  the  water  a  squish-squashin'  in  his  shoes,  and 
his  trousers  all  stickin'  sliuisey-like  to  his  legs. 
Well,  he  sneaks  off  home,  lookin'  like  a  fool,  and 
thinkin'  everybody  he  meets  is  a  larfin'  at  him : 
many  folks  here  are  like  that  'ere  boy,  afore  they 
have  been  six  months  married.  They'd  be  [)roper 
glad  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  too,  and  sneak  off  if 
they  could,  that's  a  fact.  The  marriage  yoke  is 
plaguy  apt  to  gall  the  neck,  as  the  ash  bow  does  the 
ox  in  rainy  weather,  unless  it  be  most  particuitu'ly 
Ivell  fitted.  You've  seen  a  voke  of  cattle  that  warn't 
))roperly  mated  ?  they  spend  more  strength  in  pullin' 
iirin  each    other,  than    in   pulliTi     the    load.     Well, 


■'  \> 

if 


n 


180 


THE    CLUCKMAKER. 


T  is 


ihat's  apt  to  be  the  case  with  them  as  choose  their 
wives  in  siiMghin'  p;irtit;s,  quiltin'  frolics,  iiiul  so  oil, 
'nstead  of  tiie  dairies,  looms,  and  cheese-house. 

"Now  the  Bluenoses  nre  all  a  stirrin'  in  winter 
The  vounij  folks  drive  out  the  i^ils,  and  talk  h)ve  and 
all  j-orts  of  things  as  sweet  as  donj^hmits.  Tlie  old 
folks  find  it  near  about  as  well  to  leave  the  old 
woman  to  home,  for  fear  they  shouldn't  ket^p  tune 
to<rether ;  so  they  drive  out  alone  to  chat  about 
House  of  Assembly  with  their  neighbors,  while  the 
boys  and  hired  helps  do  the  chores.  When  the 
spring  com'^s,  and  the  fields  are  dry  enough  to  be 
sowed,  they  all  have  to  be  ploughed,  ' c an se  fall  rains 
wash  the  lands  too  much  for  fall ph)n(jhin\  Well,  the 
ploughs  have  to  be  mended  and  sharpened,  ''cause 
what's  the  use  of  doin  that  afore  it's  lOfnifcd?  Well, 
the  wheat  gets  in  too  late,  and  then  comes  rust;  but 
whose  fault  is  that?  Whi/.  the  climate,  to  be  sure,  for 
Nova  Scotia  ain't  a  bread  countrij. 

"  When  a  man  has  to  run  ever  so  far  as  fast  as  he 
can  clip,  he  has  to  stop  and  take  brcp.th  ;  you  must 
do  that  or  chf)ke.  So  it  is  with  a  horse;  run  him  a 
mile,  and  his  flanks  will  heave  like  a  blacksmith's 
bellows  ;  vou  nuist  slack  up  the  rein  and  oive  him  a 
little  wind,  or  he'll  fall  right  down  with  you.  It 
stands  to  reason,  don't  it  ?  Atwixt  spring  and  fall 
work  is  '  BlowiiTb  time'  Then  courts  come  on,  and 
grand  jury  business,  and  militia  trainin',  and  race 
';rainin',  and  what  not;  and  a  fine  spell  of  ridin 
ibout  and  doin'nothin',  a  real  '  BlowitC  time.'     Then 


THE  BLOWIN'   TIME. 


181 


comes  harvest,  and  tliat  is  proper  hard  work  :  .nowin' 
and  pitchin'  hay,  and  reai/m'  and  hiiidiii'  oiain.  and 
potato  di^i;in'.  Tliat's  as  hard  as  soUvK-alhcr,  ature 
it's  hannnered  on  the  hipstone  :  it's  a'most  next  to 
anvliiinLj.  Jt  takes  a  feller  as  tonuli  as  Old  Hickory 
(General  Jaekson)  to  stimd  that. 

"Ohio  is  'most  the  only  conntry  T  knovv  of  \vh(M(! 
folks  are  saved  tlrat  tronble  ;  and  where  the  fieslu^ts 
come  jist  in  the  nick  of  time  for  'em,  and  sweep  all 
the  crops  right  np  in  a  lieap  for  'em,  and  they  liav(» 
nothin'  to  do  bnt  take  it  home  and  liouse  it  ;  and 
sometimes  a  nnm  i^ets  moie  than  Ids  own  crop,  and 
finds  a  proper  swad  of  it  all  ready  piled  up,  only  a 
little  wet  or  so;  bnt  all  countries  ain't  like  Ohio. 
Well,  arter  harvest  comes  fall,  and  then  there's  a 
grand  '  blowin'  time '  till  spring.  Now,  how  the  Lord 
the  Bluenoses  can  complain  of  their  conntry,  when 
it's  only  one  third  work  and  two  thirds  '  blowin' 
time,'  no  soul  can  tell. 

"  Father  used  to  sav,  when  I  lived  on  the  farm 
along  with  him,  '  Sam,'  says  he,  '  I  vow  I  wish  there 
was  jist  four  hundred  days  in  the  year,  for  it's»  a 
nlan'uv  s\(y\\t  too  short  for  me.  I  can  find  as  much 
work  as  all  hands  on  us  can  do  for  three  hundred 
iind  sixty-five  days,  and  jist  thirty-five  days  more,  if 
we  had  'em.  We  hain't  got  a  minit  to  spare  ;  you 
nnist  shell  the  corn  and  winrer  the  grain  at  night, 
clean  all  up  slick,  or  I  guess  we'll  fall  astarn,  as  VAire 
es  the  Lord  made  INIoses.'  If  he  didn't  keep  ns  all 
at  it,  a  drivin'  awav  full  chisel,  the  whole  blessed 


It 

I 


1} 


M 


I! 


182 


THE   CLOCKMWKR. 


*  I' 


time,  it's  u  pity.  There  was  no  '  l)l(.\viu'  time  '  there, 
you  may  (le[)eiul.  Wo  ploii^hud  all  tlie  fall  for  dear 
life;  in  winter  we  tlirasliod,  made  and  mended  tools, 
went  to  market  and  mill,  and  <>ot  out  our  firewood 
and  rails.  As  soon  as  frost  was  i^one,  came  sowin' 
and  plantin',  weedin'  and  hoein' ;  then  harvest  and 
sprcadin'  compost ;  then  gatherin'  manure,  fenciu' 
and  ditchin' ;  and  then  turn  tu  and  fall  ploughin' 
ag'in.  It  all  went  round  like  a  wheel  without 
stoppiu',  and  so  fast,  I  guess  you  couldn't  see  the 
spokes,  just  one  long  everlastin'  stroke  from  July  to 
etarnity,  without  time  to  look  hack  on  the  tracks. 
Instead  of  racin'  over  the  country  like  a  young  doc- 
tor, to  show  how  busy  a  mm  is  that  has  notion'  to 
do,  as  liluenos-e  does,  and  then  take  a  'blowin'  time,' 
w"  kept  a  rale  travellin'  sjait,  an  ei<:ht-mile-an-hour 
pace,  the  whole  year  round.  Thej/  buy  more  nor  they 
se/I,  and  eat  more  than  thcj/  raise,  in  this  country. 
What  a  pretty  way  that  is,  isn't  it?  If  the  critters 
knew  how  to  cipher,  they  would  soon  find  out  that  a 
sum  stated  that  way  alwavs  eends  in  a  nauoht.  I 
nev^r  knew  it  to  fail,  and  I  defy  any  soul  to  cipher 
it  so  as  to  make  it  come  out  any  other  way,  either  by 
Schoolmaster's  Assistant  or  Aliijebra.  When  I  was 
a  boy,  the  Slickville  Bank  broke,  and  an  awful  dis- 
orderment  it  made,  that's  a  fact:  nothin'  else  was 
talked  of  Well,  I  studied  it  over  a  Ions  time,  but  I 
couldn't,  make  it  out :  so  says  I,  *  Father,  how  camn 
that  'ere  bank  to  break  ?  Warn't  it  well  built  ?  . 
thought   that   'ere    Quincy  granite  was   so   aniazin 


THE  BLOW  IN'    TIME. 


183 


«tronfr  all  natiir'  wouhln't  broak  it.'  '  Whv,  vou 
foolish  critter,' ,s:w.s  he, 'it  tiiin't  the  biiildin'  that's 
broke,  it's  tlie  consani  that's  smasiuHl.'  '  Well,'  says 
I,  'I  know  folios  are  pla<;iiily  consanied  a'joiit  it,  iMit 
what  do  you  call  folks'  "  smnshin'  their  consanis  "?' 
Father,  he  larfed  out  like  anvthini--  ;  I  thouiiht  li9 
never  would  stop  ;  and  sister  Sail  i^ot  rigbt  up  and 
walked  out  of  the  room,  as  mad  its  a  hatter.  Savs 
she,  '  Sam,  I  do  believe  you  are  a  born  fool,  I  vow.' 
When  father  had  done  larhn',  says  he,  •  I'll  tell  you, 
Sam,  how  it  was.  They  ciphered  it  so  that  they 
brou<jjht  out  notiiin'  for  a  remiiinder.'  "  Possii)le ! ' 
says  I;  'I  thought  there  was  no  eend  to  their  puss. 
I  thought  it  was  like  Uncle  Peleg's  musquash  hole, 
and  that  no  soul  could  ever  find  the  bottom  of. 
INIy  !'  aays  I.  'Yes,'  says  he,  •  that  'ere  bank  spent 
and  lost  more  m  )ncy  tha!i  it  made,  and  when  folks 
do  that,  they  niust  smash  at  last,  if  their  puss  be  as 
long  as  the  national  one  of  Uncle  Sam.'  This  Prov- 
ince is  like  that  'ere  bank  of  our'n  ;  it's  goin'  the 
same  road,  and  they'll  find  the  little  et.Mid  of  the  horn 
afore  they  think  they  are  half  way  down  to  it. 

"  If  folks  would  only  give  over  talking  about  that 
everlastin'  House  (>f  Assend)ly  and  Council,  and  see 
to  their  farms,  it  would  be  better  for  'em,  I  guess  ; 
for  arter  all.  what  is  it  '<'  Whv  it's  onlv  a  sort  of  first 
chop  Grand  Jury,  and  nothin'  else.  It's  no  more 
like  Congress  or  Parliament,  than  Marm  Pugvvash's 
Keepin'  room  is  like  our  State  hall.  It's  jist  nothin'. 
Congress    makes  war  and    peace,  has  a  say   in    all 


184 


THE  clockmaki:r. 


If] 

•Si 


treaties,  confanns  all  great  nominations  of  the  Presi- 
dent, re*rilates  the  army  and  navy,  governs  twenty- 
four  iiidcpcimlcnt  States,  and  snaps  its  fing(M-s  in  the 
face  of  all  the  nations  of  Knropc,  as  much  as  to  say. 
Who  be  you?  I  allot  I  am  as  bijr  as  von  be.  If 
yon  are  six  foot  high,  I  am  six  foot  six  in  my  stoclcin' 
feet,  by  gum,  and  can  lambaste;  any  two  on  you  in  no 
lime.  The  British  ca!i  whip  all  the  world,  and  we 
can  whip  the  liritish.  But  this  little  House  of  As- 
sembly that  iblks  make  such  a  tonse  about,  what  is 
it?  Why  jist  a  decent  Grand  Jury.  They  make 
their  presentments  of  little  money  votes,  to  mend 
these  everlastin'  rottin'  little  wooden  bridges,  to 
throw  a  poultice  of  mud  once  a  year  on  the  roads, 
and  then  take  a  '  blowin'  time'  of  three  months  and 
jTo  home.  The  littler  folks  be,  the  biu^ixer  they  talk. 
You  never  seed  a  small  man  tiiat  didn't  wear  hijxh 
heel  boots,  and  a  high  crowned  hat,  and  that  warn't 
ready  to  fight  'most  any  one,  to  show  he  was  a  man 
every  inch  of  him. 

"  I  met  a  member  the  other  day,  who  swaggered 
near  about  as  laruo  as  Uncle  Pele«r.  He  looked  as 
if  he  thought  you  couldn't  find  his  'ditto  '  anywhere. 
He  used  some  most  particular  educational  words, 
genuine  jaw-breakers.  He  put  me  in  mind  of  a 
squiri'el  I  once  shot  in  our  wood  location.  The  little 
critter  got  a  hickory  nut  in  his  month  ;  well,  he 
found  it  too  hard  to  crack,  and  too  big  to  swaller, 
und  for  the  life  and  soul  of  him.  he  couldn't  spit  it 
>nt  ag'in.     If  he  didn't  look  like  a  nroper  fool,  you 


r 


THE  BLOWIN'   TIME. 


185 


If 


may  depend.  We  had  a  pond  back  of  our  barn, 
about  the  bio;ncss  of  a  <;()od  sizable  washtui),  and  it 
was  chock  full  of  frojjjs.  ♦Veil,  one  of  these  litih; 
crilters  fancied  himself  a  bull-fro^;-,  and  he  putlcd 
out  his  cheeks,  and  took  a  rael  'blowin'  time  '  of  it ; 
he  roared  away  like  thunder;  at  last  he  pulTcd  and 
pufted  out  till  he  bust  like  a  biler.  If  J  see  the 
Speaker  this  winter  (and  [  shall  see  him  to  a  sar- 
tainty  if  they  don't  send  for  him  to  London,  to  teach 
their  new  Speaker  ;  and  he's  up  to  snuff,  that  'ere 
man  ;  he  knows  how  to  cipher),  I'll  jist  say  to  him, 
'  Speaker,'  says  I,  '  if  any  of  your  folks  in  the  House 
go  to  swell  out  like  dropsy,  oive  'em  a  hint  in  time. 
Says  you,  If  you  have  'ere  a  little  safety  valve  about 
you,  let  off  a  little  steam  now  and  then,  or  you'll  go 
for  it;  recollect  the  Clockniaker's  story  of  the 
^  Blowin'  time."  " 


t  f 


I' 


■( 


it 

i 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


FATIIKU   JOHN    O  SIIAUGIINKSSY. 


'  'i 

liii; 


"To-morrow  will  be  Sahbatli  day,"  said  the 
Clockmaker ;  "  I  guess  we'll  bide  where  we  be  till 
Monday.  I  like  a  Sabbath  in  the  country  ;  all  natur' 
seems  at  rest.  There's  a  cheerfulness  in  the  day 
here,  you  don't  find  in  towns.  You  have  natur'  be- 
fore you  here,  and  nothin'  but  art  there.  The 
deathly  stillness  of  a  town,  and  the  barred  windows, 
and  shut  shops,  and  empty  streets,  and  great  long 
lines  of  bijj  brick  buildins'  look  inehincholv.  It 
seems  as  if  life  had  ceased  tickin',  but  there  hadn't 
been  time  for  decay  to  take  hold  on  there ;  as  if  day 
had  broke,  but  man  slept.  T  can't  describe  exactly 
what  I  mean,  but  I  always  feel  kinder  gloomy  and 
wamblecropt  there. 

"  Now  in  the  country  it's  jist  what  it  ought  to  be  — 
a  day  of  rest  for  man  and  beast  from  labor.  When 
a  man  rises  on  the  Sabbath,  and  looks  out  on  the 
ftunny  fields  and  wavin'  croi)S,  his  heart  feels  proper 
grateful,  and  he  says,  Come,  this  is  a  sjtlendid  day, 
nin'tit?  let's  get  ready  and  put  on  onr  bettermost 
ilose,  and  go  to  meetin*.     His  first  thought  is  prayer 


lonji 


FATHER  JOHN  (/Sll AUCIISES.^Y.       187 

fully  to  rciulor  tliunks;  aiul  then  wIkmi  ho  «;oes  to 
worsliij)  hu  Muu'ts  all  Iiis  m'i^hhors,  and  1m;  knows 
them  all,  and  th(!y  aro  ;^hul  to  scl'  each  other,  and  if 
niiv  two  on  'em  hain't  exactly  «j:ee'd  toijether  durin 
the  week,  why,  they  m(!et  oti  kind  of  nentral  <;ronnd, 
and  the  minister  or  neii^hhors  make  peace  atweei\ 
them,  lint  it  ain't  so  in  toNyns.  Von  don't  know  no 
«)ne  you  meet  there.  It's  the  worship  of  neiifhbors, 
but  it's  the  worship  of  stranj^ers,  too,  for  neii^hhors 
don't  know  nor  can;  about  each  other.  Yes,  I  love 
a  Sabbath  in  the  country." 

While  uttorinuf  tiiis  soliloquy,  he  took  up  a  pam- 
phlet from  the  table,  and  turning  to  the  titUspaoe.  said, 
"  Have  you  ever  s(>en  this  here  book  on  the  *  Elder 
Controversy'?  (a  controversy  on  tlu;  subject  of  In- 
fant Baptism).  This  author's  frjentls  say  it's  a 
clincher;  they  say  he  has  sealed  up  Eider's  mouth 
us  ti^ht  as  a  bottle." 

'•  No,"  said  I,  "  I  have  not ;  I  have  heard  of  it,  but 
never  read  it.  In  my  opinion  ihe  sui)ject  has  been 
exhausted  already,  and  admits  of  nothiuL^  new  being 
said  upon  it.  These  religious  controversies  are  a 
serious  injury  to  the  cause  of  true  religion;  they  are 
deeply  deplored  by  the  good  and  moderate  men  of 
all  parties.  It  has  already  en)braced  several  de- 
nomi tuitions  in  the  dispute  in  this  Province,  and  I 
hear  the  ajdtation  has  extended  to  New  lirnnswick, 
where  it  will  doubtless  be  renewed  with  equal  zeal. 
f  am  told  all  the  pamphlets  are  exceptionable  in 
point  of  temper,   and   this  one   ir)   particular,  which 


\ 


\\ 


i 


^1* 


188 


THE   CLOCK  MAKER. 


not  only  ascribes  the  most  unworthy  motives  to  its 
antugonist,  but  contiiins  some  very  iinjiistiliuble  and 
gratuitous  attacks  upon  other  sects  unconnectc^d 
with  the  dispute.  The  author  has  injured  his  own 
cause,  for  an  iiifeinperate  advocate  is  wore  dangerous 
than  an  openfoey 

"  There  is  no  dou])t  on  it,"  said  the  Clockmaker  ; 
"it  is  as  clear  as  mud,  and  you  are  not  the  only  one 
that  thinks  so,  I  tell  you.  About  the  hottest  time  of 
the  dispute,  I  was  to  Halifax,  and  who  should  I  meet 
but  Father  John  O'Shaughnessy,  a  Catholic  priest. 
I  had  met  him  afore  in  Cape  Breton,  and  had  sold 
him  a  clock.  Well,  he  was  a  leijoin'  jt  off  hot  foot. 
'  Posyible  !  '  says  I,  "■  Fathei  John,  is  that  you  ?  Why, 
what  on  airth  is  the  matter  of  you  ?  what  makes  you 
in  such  an  eveilastin'  hurry,  drivin'  away  like  one 
ravin'  distracted  mad  ? '  'A  sick  visit,'  says  he ; 
'poor  Pat  Lanigan,  —  him  that  you  mind  to  Hradore 
Lake,  —  well,  he's  near  about  at  the  p'int  of  death.' 
'  I  guess  not,'  said  I,  '  for  1  jist  heard  tell  he  was 
dead.'  Well,  that  brought  him  up  all  standin',  and 
he  'bouts  ship  in  a  jiify,  and  walks  a  little  way  with 
me,  and  we  got  a  talkin'  about  tiiis  very  subject. 
Says  he,  '  What  are  you,  jNIr.  Slick  ? '  Well,  I  looks 
up  to  him,  and  winks,  —  'A  Clockmaker,'  says  I. 
Well,  he  smiled,  and  says  he,  '  I  see  ;'  as  much  as 
to  s'ly,  1  hadn't  ought  to  have  axed  that  'ere  ques- 
tion at  all,  I  guess,  fori  every  man's  religion  is  his 
Dwn,  and  nobody  else's  business.'  '  Then,'  says  he, 
you  know  all  about  this  country.     Who  does  folks 


FATHER  JOHN  O'S/IAUGHNE.^.^Y.        18W 


I 


Bay  had  the  best  of  the  dispute  ?  '  Says  T,  '  Fatlier 
John,  it's  like  the  battles  up  to  Cauada  lines  last 
war,  eacii  side  claims  victory;  I  <j;uess  there  ain't 
much  to  hvi\(r  on  nary  way,  —  danuiue  done  on  both 
sides,  and  noihin'  j^ained,  as  far  as  I  can  learn.'  He 
st()i)ped  short,  and  looked  nie  in  the  face,  and  says 
he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  you  are  a  man  that  has  seen  a  good 
deal  of  the  world,  and  a  considerable  of  an  under- 
standin'  man,  and  I  guess  I  can  talk  to  you.  Now,' 
says  he,  '  for  gracious'  sake  do  jist  look  he,*e,  and 
see  how  you  heretics  —  Protestants  I  mean,'  says 
he,  (for  I  guess  that  'ere  word  slipped  out  with- 
out leaye)  'are  by  the  (!ars,  a  drivin'  away  at  each 
other  the  whole  blessed  time,  tooth  and  nail,  hip 
and  thigh,  hanmier  and  tongs,  disputin',  revilin', 
wranolln',  and  beioutin'  each  other  with  all  sorts  of 
ujtIv  names  that  they  can  hiv  their  tonu^ues  to.  Is 
that  the  way  you  love  your  nciijhbors  as  vourself  ? 
IVe  say  this  is  a  practical  comment  on  schism,  and  by 
the  powers  of  Moll  Kelly,'  said  he,  'but  they  all 
ought  to  be  well  lambasted  togetlicr,  the  whole  batch 
on  'em  entirely.'  Says  I,  '  Father  John,  give  me  your 
hand;  there  are  some  things  1  guess,  you  and  1 
don't  airree  on,  and  most  likely  never  will,  seein' 
that  you  are  a  Popish  priest;  but  in  that  idee  I  do 
opinionate  with  you,  and  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart, 
all  the  world  thought  with  us.' 

"  I  guess  he  didn't  half  like  that  'ere  word  l*oi)ish 
priest,  it  seemed  to  grig  him  'Ike  ;  his  face  looked 
kinder    riled,  like  well    water    arter  a  heavy  rain 


5F 

1  ( 

p 

if 


^1 
I 


■■  I 


"I 


190 


r/^/;  c/: o cvvM/.i a'/j/?. 


pjl  ^^ji 


and  said  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,'  says  he,  '  your  country  is  a 
free  country,  ain't  it  ?  '  '  The  freest,'  says  I, '  on  the 
face  of  the  airth  ;  vou  can't  ''  ditto  "  it  nowheie. 
We  are  as  free  as  the  air,  and  wlien  our  dander's 
up,  stronger  than  any  hurricane  you  ever  seed  — 
tear  up  all  creation  'most ;  there  ain't  the  beat  of 
it  to  be  found  anywhere.'  '  Do  you  call  this  a  free 
country  ?  '  said  he.  '  Pretty  considerable  niiddlin',' 
says  I,  'seein'  that  they  are  under  a  king.'  'Well,' 
says  he,  '  if  you  were  seen  in  Connecticut  a  shakin' 
hands  along  with  a  Popish  priest,  as  you  are  pleased 
to  call  me'  (and  he  made  me  a  bow,  as  much  as  to 
say,  INIind  your  trumps  the  next  deal),  '  as  you  now 
are  in  the  streets  of  Halifax  along  with  me,  with  all 
your  crackin'  and  boastin'  of  your  freedom,  I  guess 
you  wouldn't  sell  a  clock  ag'in  in  that  State  for  one 
while,  I  tell  you  ; '  and  he  bid  me  good  mornin'  and 
turned  away.  *  Father  John  ! '  says  I.  '  I  can't 
stop,'  says  he  ;  '  I  must  see  that  poor  critter's  family  ; 
they  must  be  in  great  trouble,  and  a  sick  visit  is 
afore  controvarsy  in  my  creed.'  'Well,'  says  T,  'one 
word  with  you  afore  you  go ;  if  that  'ere  name 
Popish  priest  was  nn  ongentiel  one,  I  ax  your 
pardon  ;  I  didn't  mean  no  offense,  I  do  assure  you, 
and  I'll  say  this  for  your  satisfaction,  tu :  you're  the 
first  man  in  this  Province  that  ever  gave  me  a  real 
right  down  com])leto  checkmate  since  I  first  sot  foot 
in  it,  I'll  be  skinned  if  yon  ain't.' 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  Father  John   was  right 
'heso  antagonizing  chaps  ought  to  be  well  quilted 


FATHER  JOHN  O'SHAUGHNESSY.       191 


tho  whole  raft  of  'em.  It  fairly  makes  me  sick  to 
Bee  the  folks,  each  on  'em  a  backin'  up  of  their  own 
man.  'At  it  ag'in!'  says  one;  'Fair  play!'  says 
another  ;  '  Stick  it  into  him  ! '  says  a  third  ;  and 
'  That's  your  sort ! '  says  a  fourth.  Them  are  the 
folks  who  do  mischief.  They  show  such  clear  grit,  | 
it  ftiirly  frightens  me.  It  makes  my  hair  stand  right 
up  on  eend  to  see  ministers  do  that  'ere.  Jt  appears  < 
to  me  that  I  could  write  a  book  in  favor  of  mt/se/f  and 
my  notions,  ivitJiout  ivritin'  agin  any  one,  and  if  1 
couldn't  1  loouldnt  write  at  all,  I  snore.  Our  old 
minister,  Mr.  Hopewell  (a  real  good  man,  and  a 
larned  man  too  at  that),  they  sent  to  him  once  to 
write  acrin  the  Unitarians,  for  thev  are  agoin'  ahead 
like  statiee  in  New  England,  but  he  refused.  Said 
he,  '  Sam,'  says  he,  '  wl.en  I  first  went  to  Cambridge, 
there  was  a  boxer  and  wrastler  came  there,  and  he 
beat  every  one  wherever  he  went.  Well,  old  Mr. 
Possit  was  the  Church  of  England  parson  at  Charles- 
town,  at  the  time,  and  a  terrible  powerful  man  he 
^vas  —  a  rael  sneezer,  and  as  active  as  a  weasel. 
AVell,  the  boxer  met  him  one  day,  a  little  way  out 
of  town,  a  takin'  of  his  evenin'  walk,  and  said  he, 
•'  Parson,"  says  he,  "  they  say  you  are  a  most  plaguy 
stroncf  man  and  uticommon  stiff  too."  "  Now,"  says 
be,  "  I  never  seed  a  man  yet  that  was  a  match  for 
me;  would  you  have  any  objection  jist  to  let  me  be 
availed  of  your  strength  here  in  a  friendly  way,  by 
ourselves,  where  no  soul  would  be  the  wiser  ?  if  you 
5vill    I'll    keep   dark  about  it,   I  s^van."     "  Go  youi 


^  i  1 


,! 


■"  1 


:| 


1' 


t 


\:  '  i 


m}> 


\l    > 


192 


THE   CLOCKMAKER 


way,"  said  tlio  parson,  "  and  tempt  me  not ;  you  are 
a  carnal  minded,  wicked  man,  and  I  take  no  pleasure 
in  such  vain,  idle  sports."  "  Very  well,"  said  the 
boxer  ;  "  now  here  I  stand,"  says  he,  "  in  the  path, 
rioht  slap  afore  you  ;  if  you  pass  round  me,  then  I 
take  it  as  a  sign  that  you  are  afeard  on  me,  and  if 
you  keep  the  i)ath,  why  then  you  must  first  put  me 
out  —  that's  a  fact."  The  parson  jist  made  a  spring 
forrard  and  ketched  him  up  as  quick  as  wink,  and 
throwed  him  right  over  the  fence  whap  on  the  broad 
of  his  back,  and  then  walked  on  as  if  nothin'  had 
happened  —  as  demure  as  you  please,  and  lookin' 
as  meek  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth. 
"  Stop,"  said  the  boxer,  as  soon  as  he  picked  himself 
up,  ''  stop  Parson,"  said  he,  "  that's  a  good  man,  and 
jist  chuck  over  my  horoe,  too,  will  you,  for  1  swan  I 
believe  you  could  do  one  near  about  as  easy  as 
t'other.  My ! "  said  he,  "  if  that  don't  bang  the 
bush  ;  you  are  another  guess  chap  from  what  I  took 
you  to  be,  anyhow." 

"  '  Now,'  said  Mr.  Hopewell,  says  he,  '  I  won't 
write,  but  if  'ere  a  Unitarian  crosses  my  path,  I'll 
jist  over  the  fence  with  him  in  no  time,  as  the  parson 
did  the  boxer ;  for  wrlt'ivi!  only  aggravates  your 
opponents^  and  never  convinces  them.  1  never  seed  a 
convart  made  by  that  way  yet ;  but  111  tell  you  what  I 
have  seed:  a  man  set  his  own  flock  a  doiibtin''  by  his 
own  writin\  You  may  happify  your  enemies,  can- 
ta?ikerate  your  opponents,  and  injure  your  own  cause 
hy  it,  but  1  defy  you  to  sarve  it.     These  writers,'  said 


A 


FATHER  JOHN  O'SHAUGIINESSY.       193 


he,  *  put  me  in  mind  of  that  'ere  boxer's  pupils.  He 
would  sometimes  set  two  on  'em  to  spar;  well,  they'd 
put  on  their  gloves,  and  begin,  laifin'  and  jokin',  all 
in  good  huuior.  Presently  one  on  'em  wouhl  i)ut  in 
a  pretty  hard  blow  ;  well,  t'other  would  return  it  in 
.airnest.  '•  O,"  says  the  other,  'Mf  that's  your  jilay, 
off  j>loves  and  at  it ;  "  and  sure  enouirh,  awav  would 
fly  their  gloves,  and  a    it  they'd  go,  tooth  and  nail, 

"'No,  Sam,  the  misfortin'  is,  we  are  all  apt  to  | 
think  Seriptur'  intended  for  our  neighbors,  and  not 
for  ourselves.  The  poor  all  think  it  made  for  the 
rich.  "  Look  at  that  'ere  Dives,"  they  say,  "  what 
an  all-fired  scrape  he  got  into  by  his  avarice,  with 
Lazarus  ;  and  ain't  it  writ  as  plain  as  anything,  that 
Ihem  folks  will  find  it  as  easv  to  ijo  to  heaven,  as  for 
a  camel  to  sfo  through  the  eve  of  a  needle  ?  "  AVell, 
then,  the  rich  think  it  all  made  for  the  poor  —  that 
they  shan't  steal  nor  bear  false  witness,  but  shall  be 
obedient  to  them  that's  in  authority.  And  as  for 
them  'ere  Unitarians,'  and  he  always  got  his  dander 
up  when  he  spoke  of  them,  '  why,  there's  no  doin' 
nothin'  with  them,'  says  he.  '  When  they  get  fairly 
stumped,  and  you  produce  a  text  that  they  can't  get 
over,  nor  get  round,  why,  they  say,  "It  ain't  in  our 
version  at  all  ;  that's  an  interpolation,  it's  an  inven- 
tion of  them  'ere  everlastin'  monks  ;  "  there's  nothin' 
left  for  you  to  do  with  them,  but  to  sarve  them  as 
Parson  Possit  detailed  the  boxer  —  lay  right  hold 
of  'em  and  chuck  'em  over  the  fence,  even  if  they 
were  as  bis:  as  all  ont-do^rs.     That's  wdiat  our  folks 

13 


^^1 


194 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


: 


i ' 
'  i 


"!i; 


ought  to  have  done  with  'em  at  first,  pitched  'em 
clean  out  of  the  State,  and  let  'em  go  down  to  Nova 
Scotia,  or  some  such  outlandish  place,  for  they  ain't 
fit  to  live  in  no  Christian  country  at  all. 

" '  Fightin'  is  no  way  to  make  convarts ;  the  true 
way  is  to  win  *em.  You  may  stop  a  man's  mouth, 
Sam,'  says  he,  '  by  a  crammin'  a  book  down  his 
throat,  but  vou  won't  convince  him.  It's  a  fine 
thing  to  write  a  book  all  covered  over  with  Latin, 
and  Greek,  and  Hebrew,  like  a  bridle  that's  real 
jam,  all  spangled  with  brass  nails,  but  who  knows 
whether  it's  right  or  wrong  ?  Why,  not  one  in  ten 
thousand.  If  I  had  my  religion  to  choose,  and 
warn't  able  to  judge  for  myself,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'd 
do:  I'd  jist  ask  myself  Who  leads  the  best  lives? 
Now,'  says  he,  '  Sam,  I  won't  say  who  do,  because  it 
would  look  like  vanity  to  say  it  was  the  folks  who 
hold  to  our  platform,  but  I'll  tell  you  wlio  don't.  It 
ain't  them  that  makes  the  greatest  professions  always; 
and  mind  what  I  tell  you,  Sam,  when  you  go  a 
tradin'  with  your  clocks  away  down  East  to  Nova 
Scotia,  and  them  wild  provinces,  keep  a  bright  look- 
out on  them  as  cant  too  much,  for  a  long  face  is 
vlagug  apt  to  cover  a  long  conscience  —  that's  a 
feet.' " 


1i 


J 


I'- 


CHAPTER   XXV. 


TAMING   A    SIIllEW. 


The  road  from  Amherst  to  Parrsboro'  is  tedious 
and  uninteresting.  In  places  it  is  made  so  straight 
that  you  can  see  several  miles  of  it  before  yon,  which 
produces  an  appearance  of  interminable  length, 
while  tlie  stunted  growth  of  the  spruce  and  birch 
trees  bespeaks  a  cold,  thin  soil,  and  invests  the  scene 
with  a  melancJipJ^y  and  sterile  asj^ect.  Here  and 
there  occurs  a  little  valley,  with  its  meandering 
stream,  and  verdant  and  fertile  interval,  which 
though  possessing  nothing  peculiar  to  distinguish  it 
from  many  others  of  the  same  kind,  strikes  the  trav- 
eller as  superior  to  them  all,  from  the  contrast  to  the 
surrounding  country.  One  of  these  secluded  spots 
attracted  my  attention,  from  the  number  and  neat- 
ness of  the  buildings  which  its  proprietor,  a  tanner 
and  currier,  had  erected  for  the  purposes  of  his 
trade.  Mr.  Slick  said  he  knew  him,  and  he  guessed 
it  was  a  pity  he  couldn't  keep  his  wife  in  as  good 
order  as  he  did  his  factory. 

"  They  don't  hitch  their  horses  together  well  at  all. 
He  is  properly  henpecked,"  said  he;  ''he  is  afoard 


196 


THE    CLOCKMAKER. 


'f  ■: 


It', 

if! 


M 


i 


!o  call  his  soul  his  own,  and  he  londs  the  life  of  a 
dog;  you  never  seed  tlie  bent  of  it,  I  vow.  Did  you 
<jver  see  a  rooster  hatcli  a  brood  of  cliickens  ?  " 
"Xo,"  said  1,  '"not  tliat  I  can  recollect." 
"Well,  then,  1  have,"  said  he,  "and  if  he  don't 
look  like  a  fool  all  the  time  he  is  a  settin'  on  the 
e<xgs,  it's  a  pity;  no  soul  could  help  larfin'  to  see 
him.  Oiu'  old  nigger,  January  Snow,  had  a  spite 
agin  one  of  father's  roosters,  seein'  that  he  was  a 
coward,  and  wouldn't  fight.  He  used  to  call  him 
Dearborne,  arter  our  General  thai,  behaved  so  ugly 
to  Canada  :  and  says  he  one  day,  '  I  guess  you  are 
no  better  than  a  hen.  you  everlasting  old  chicken- 
hearted  villain,  and  I'll  make  you  a  larfin'-stock  to 
all  the  poultry.  I'll  put  a  trick  on  you  you'll  bear 
in  mind  all  your  born  days.'  So  he  catches  old 
Dearborne,  and  pulls  all  the  feathers  off  his  breast, 
and  strips  him  as  naked  as  when  he  was  born,  from 
his  throat  clean  down  to  his  tail,  and  then  takes  a 
bundle  of  nettles  and  gives  him  a  propers  witchin', 
that  stung  him  and  made  him  siiiart  like  mad  ; 
then  he  warms  some  eii»s  and  puts  them  in  a  nest, 
and  sets  the  old  cock  right  atop  of  'em.  Well,  the 
warmth  of  the  eggs  felt  good  to  the  poor  critter's 
naked  belly,  and  kinder  kept  the  itchiu'  of  the  nettles 
down,  and  he  was  glad  to  bide  where  he  was  ;  and 
whenever  he  was  tired  and  got  of  his  skin  felt  so 
:old.  he'd  run  right  back  and  squat  down  ag'in  ;  and 
when  his  feathers  began  to  grow,  and  he  got  obstrop- 
ulous,  he  got  another  ticklin'  with  the  nettles,  that 


TAMING  A  SHREW. 


197 


ife  of  a 

)i(l  voii 

3    don't 
on  tlie 

to    HV.O. 

a  spite 
was  a 
lU    him 
so  ngly 
/on  are 
licken- 
;ock  to 
11  bear 
les  old 
breast, 
1,  from 
takes  a 
itchin', 
mad  ; 
a  nest, 
-'11,  the 
ritter's 
nettles 
^ ;  and 
felt  so 
;  and 
)strop- 
s,  that 


made  him  retnrn  doul)le  qnick  to  his  location.  In  a 
little  time  he  larnt  the  trade  real  complete.  Now, 
this  John  PortcM-  (and  tlierc  he  is  on  the  bridge.  I 
vow;  I  never  seed  the  beat  o'  that.  —  spc^ak  of  old 
Saytin  and  he's  snre  to  apjx'ar),  well,  he's  jist  like 
old  Deaiborne,  only  fit  to  hatcii  e2:<^s." 

When  we  came  to  tiie  l)ridiro.  iMr.  Slick  stopperl 
his  horse,  to  shake  liands  witli  PortcT,  whom  he  rec- 
ognized as  an  old  acquaintance  and  customer,  lie 
inquired  after  a  bark-mill  he  had  smuggled  from  the 
States  for  him,  and  enlarged  on  the  value  of  such  a 
machine,  and  the  cleverness  of  his  countrymen  who 
invented  such  nseful  and  profit:d)le  articles;  and  was 
reconnnending  a  new  process  of  tanning,  when  a 
female  voice  from  the  house  was  heard,  Nociferating, 
"John  Porter,  come  here  this  minute."  '*  Coming, 
my  dear,"  said  the  husband.  '•  Couie  here,  I  say, 
directly;  why  do  you  stand  talking  to  that  Yankee 
villain  there?  "  The  poor  husband  hung  his  head, 
looked  silly,  and  bidding  us  good-by,  returned  slowly 
to  the  house. 

As  we  drove  on,  Mr.  Slick  said,  "  That  was  me  — 
I  did  that." 

"  Did  what  ?  "  said  I. 

"  That  was  me  that  sent  him  back  ;  I  called  him, 
and  not  his  wife.  1  had  that  'ere  bestowment  ever 
since  I  was  knee  high  or  so:  I'm  a  real  compI(;te 
hand  at  ventriloquism  ;  I  can  take  off  any  man's 
voice  I  ever  heard  to  the  very  nines.  If  there  was 
a  law  aoin  foroin'  that,  as  there  is  for  handwritin',  T 


*•  i 


198 


THE   CLOCK MAK Eli. 


'|S 


!li 


!l 


t-.i 


1*^ 

'  "1 

1 

I, 

f 
\ 


guess  I  sb.ould  luive  been  hunned  loiii»  ago.  I've 
had  higli  goes  witli  it  nuiiiy  a  time,  hut  it's  plaguy 
(langersoine,  and  I  don't  pnie^/.ve  it  now  but  seldom. 
I  had  a  real  bout  with  tiiat  'ere  citizen's  wife  onee, 
and  comph.'tely  broke  her  in  for  hiu) :  siio  went  as 
gentle  as  a  circns  horse  for  a  space,  but  he  let  her 
have  her  head  ag'in,  and  she's  as  bad  as  ever  now, 
I'll  tell  vou  how  it  was. 

"•  I  was  down  to  the  Island  a  sellin'  clocks,  and 
wlio  should  1  meet  but  .John  Porter;  well,  I  traded 
with  him  for  one,  part  cash,  part  truck  and  \)Vi)dHce^ 
and  also  put  off  on  him  that  'ere  burk-n)ill  you  heerd 
me  axin'  about,  and  it  was  pretty  considerable  on  in 
the  evenin'  afore  we  finished  our  trade.  I  came 
home  alonij  with  him,  and  had  the  clock  in  the 
wagon  to  {"w  it  up  for  him,  aud  to  show  him  how  to 
rjoilate  it.  Well,  as  we  neared  his  house,  he  be«:an 
to  fret  and  take  on  dreadful  oneasy  ;  says  he,  '  I 
hope  Jane  won't  be  abed,  'cause  if  she  is  she'll  act 
ugly,  I  do  suppose.'  I  had  heard  tell  of  her  afore  — 
how  she  used  to  carry  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  make 
him  and  the  broomstick  well  acquainteil  together; 
and  says  I.  '  Why  do  you  put  up  with  her  tantrums? 
I'd  make  a  fair  division  of  the  house  with  her,  if  it 
was  me ;  I'd  take  the  inside  and  allocate  her  the 
outside  of  it  pretty  quick,  that's  a  fact.'  Well,  when 
we  came  to  the  house,  there  was  no  light  in  it,  and 
the  poor  critter  looked  so  streaked  aud  down  in  the 
mouth,  I  felt  proper  sorry  for  him.  When  he  rapped 
at  the  door,  she  called    out,  '  Who's  there  ? '     '  It's 


TAMING  A  SHREW. 


199 


I've 


he,  '  I 


me,  dear,'  says  Portor.  *  Yoii,  is  it,'  said  she,  '  ttien 
you  may  stay  wluire  you  b(3  ;  tlicin  as  gave  you  your 
Kupper  may  s;ive  you  your  bod,  insti-ad  of  setidin' 
you  snc^akiu'  iiouie  at  uii^lit  liki;  a  tliii'T.'  Said  I,  in 
a  whisper,  says  I,  '  Leave  lier  to  uie,  Jolin  Porter; 
jist  take  the  horses  up  to  the  barn,  and  see  after 
them,  and  Pil  mauai;e  her  for  you;  I'll  make  lier  as 
sweet  as  su^arv  caiidv,  never  ft^ar.'  The  barn,  vou 
see,  is  a  good  j)i(!ce  olV  to  the  eastward  of  the  iiouse ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  was  eleverly  out  of  iiearin',  says  I, 
a  imitalin'  of  his  voice  to  the  life,  '  Do  hst  me  in, 
Jane,'  savs  I,  •  tiiat's  a  dear  critter  ;  Pve  biouijlit  vou 
home  some  things  you'll  like,  I  know.'  Well,  she 
was  an  awful  jealous  critter;  says  she,  'Take  'em  to 
her  you  sj)ent  the  evenin'  with  ;  I  don't  want  you 
nor  your  presents  neither.'  Arter  a  good  deal  of 
coaxin'  I  stood  on  the  t'other  tack,  and  began  to 
threaten  to  break  the  door  down  ;  says  I,  •  You  old 
unhansum  lookin'  sinner,  vou  vinei'iier  cruet  vou, 
open  the  door  this  niinit  or  I'll  smash  it  right  in.' 
That  grigged  her  properly,  it  made  her  very  wralhy 
(for  nothin'  sets  up  a  woman's  spunk  like  callin'  her 
ugly  ;  she  gets  her  back  right  up  like  a  cat  when  a 
strange  dog  comes  near  her  ;  she's  all  eyes,  claws, 
and  bristles). 

"  I  heerd  her  bounce  right  out  of  bed.  and  she 
came  to  the  door  as  she  was,  ondressed,  and  onbolted 
it ;  and  as  I  entered  it,  she  fetched  mo  a  box  right 
across  my  cheek  with  the  flat  of  her  hand,  that  made 
5t  tingle  ag'in.     '  Til  teach  you  to  call  names  ag'in, 


200 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


fr 


I" 


says  she,  'you  vartnlnt.'  It  was  jist  what  I  wanted 
I  pushed  the  door  tu  with  in\  loot,  and  seizin'  her 
by  the  arm  witi\  oni;  hand,  1  quilted  iier  with  the 
horsewhip  real  handsuin  with  the  other.  At  (iist 
bhe  roari'd  like  mad;  'Til  ^ive  you  the  ten  com- 
mandments,' says  she  (nK'anini;-  her  ten  claws),  '  111 
pay  you  for  this,  you  cowardly  villain,  to  strike  a 
woman.  How  dare  you  lift  your  hand,  John  I?orter, 
toyonr  lawfnl  wife!'  and  so  on  ;  all  the  time  runnin' 
round  imd  round,  like  a  colt  that's  a  hreakin',  with 
the  mouthin'  hit,  rarin',  kickin',  and  plungin'  like 
statiee.  Then  she  hegan  to  give  in.  Says  she,  '  I 
beg  pardon,  on  my  knees  I  beg  pardon ;  don't  mur- 
der me,  for  Heaven's  sake  —  don't,  dear  John,  don't 
murder  your  poor  wife,  that's  a  dear;  I'll  do  as  you 
bid  me;  I  promise  to  behave  well,  upon  my  honor  I 
do;  O  !  de:ir  John,  do  forgive  me,  do  dear.'  When 
I  had  her  properly  brouglit  to,  for  havin'  nothin'  on 
but  a  thin  undergarment,  every  crack  of  the  whip 
told  like  a  notch  on  a  baker's  tally,  says  I,  '  Take 
that  as  a  taste  of  what  you'll  catch  wh-en  yuu  act  that 
way,  like  Old  Scratch.  Now  go  and  dress  yourself, 
and  get  suppe'.for  me  and  a  stranger  I  have  brought 
home  along  with  me,  and  be  quick,  for  I  vow  I'll  be 
master  in  my  own  house.*  She  moaned  like  a  dog 
hit  with  a  stone,  half  whine,,  half  yelp.  '  Dear,  dear,' 
says  she,  'if  I  ain't  all  covered  over  with  welts  as  big 
as  my  finger  ;  I  do  believe  I'm  flayed  alive  ! '  and 
hhe  boohoo'd  right  out  like  anything.  '  I  guess, 
said  I,  'you've  got  'em    where  folks  won't  see  'em 


TAMING   A   :6UU1':W. 


201 


ranted 
:iir  her 
itii  the 
Vt  first 
II  coni- 
s),  Mil 
tfike  a 
IN)rtcr, 
runniir 
\\  willi 
\\  like 
she,  '  I 
't  imir- 
I,  don't 
as  you 
loiior  I 

When 
hin'  on 
e  whip 

'  Take 
ict  that 
ourself, 
)r()ngiit 

I'll  be 

a  docj 
•,  dear,' 
1  as  big 
! '  and 

i]fUOSS, 

ee  \n\\ 


anyhow,  and  I  caU.uhitt'  you  won't  i)e  over  fotrard  to 
sliow  'em  where  thev  be.  lint  eoine,'  says  I,  •  bt»  a 
stirrin',  or  I'll  (juilL  \on  ag'in  as  sure  as  you're  alive; 
I'll  tau  your  hide  lor  you,  you  may  de[)('nd,  you  old 
unj^ainly  tcunpercd  heller  you.' 

"  U'heu  I  went  to  the  baru,  says  I,  'John  Porter, 
your  wile  made  ri^ht  at  me,  like  one  ravin'  distracted 
mad,  when  I  opencMl  the  door,  thinkin'  it  was  you  ; 
and  I  was  obli<'ed  to  «>ive  her  a  crack  or  two  of  th(? 
covvskin  to  ^et  clear  of  her.  It  has  elTcctuatcd  a 
cure  completely  ;  now  toller  it  up,  and  don't  let  on  for 
your  life  it  warn't  you  that  did  it,  and  you'll  be  mas- 
ter once  more;  in  your  own  house.  She's  all  docity 
jlst  now,  —  keep  her  so.'  As  we  returned  we  saw  a 
light  in  the  keci)in'  room,  the  fire  was  bla/in'  up 
cheerfulsome,  and  Marm  Porter  moved  about  as 
brisk  as  a  parcluHl  pea,  though  as  silent  as  dumb, 
and  our  supper  was  ready  in  no  tinu;.  As  soon  as 
she  took  her  seat  and  sot  down,  she  sj)runj;  right  u[) 
on  eend,  as  if  she  sot  on  a  pan  of  hot  coals,  and  col- 
ored all  over  ;  and  then  tears  started  in  her  eyes. 
Thinks  I  to  myself,  I  calculate  I  wrote  that  'ere  les- 
son in  large  letters  anyhow;  I  can  read  that  writin' 
without  spellin',  and  no  mistake  ;  I  guess  you've  got 
pretty  well  warmed  thereabouts  this  hitch.  Thcii 
she  tried  it  ag'in  ;  first  she  sot  on  one  leg,  then  on 
t'other,  (piite  oneasy.  and  then  right  atwi\t  both,  u 
^d"ettin'  about  dreadfully  ;  like  a  man  that's  rode  all 
day  on  a  bad  saddle,  and  lost  ;i  little  leather  on  the 
way.     If  you  had  seed  how  she  stared  at  Porter,  it 


v4 


THE   CL  0  CKMAKEli. 


1 

'i  'i 

> 

(i" 

\  <■' 


would  have  made  you  snicker.  She  couldn't  credit 
her  eyes,  lie  warn't  drunk,  and  he  warn't  crazy, 
but  there  he  sot  as  peeked  and  as  nieechin'  as  you 
please.  She  seemed  all  struck  up  of  a  heap  at  h's 
rebellion.  The  next  dav  when  1  was  about  startm 
I  advised  him  to  act  like  a  man,  and  keep  tiie 
weather-gauge  now  he  had  it,  and  all  would  be  well ; 
but  the  poor  critter  only  held  on  a  day  or  two,  she 
soon  got  the  upper  hand  of  him  and  made  him  con- 
fess all,  and  by  all  accounts  he  leads  a  worse  life  now 
than  ever.  I  put  that  'ere  trick  on  him  jist  now  to 
try  him,  and  I  see  it's  a  gone  goose  with  him  ;  the 
jig  is  up  with  him;  she'll  soon  call  him  with  a  whistle 
like  a  dog.  I  often  think  of  the  hornpipe  she  danced 
there  in  the  dark  along  with  me  to  the  music  of  my 
whip  ;  she  touched  it  off  in  great  style,  that's  a  fact. 
I  shall  mind  that  go  one  while,  I  promise  you.  It 
was  actilly  equal  to  a  play  at  old  Bow'ry.  You  may 
depend,  'Squiie,  the  only  way  to  tame  a  shrew  is  by 
the  cowskin.  Grandfather  Slick  was  raised  all 
ttlono'  the  coast  of  Kent  in  Old  P^uijland,  and  he  used 
to  say  tiiere  was  an  old  saying  there,  which,  I  expect, 
is  not  fur  off  Che  mark :  — 


f 


'  A  woman,  a  dofr,  and  a  walnut  tree, 
The  more  you  lick  them  the  better  they  be.' " 


I  k'"; 


H 


t  credit 
crazy, 
as  you 
►  at  h''s 
startin 
ep    tlie 
)e  well ; 
wo,  she 
n  con- 
ife  now 
now  to 
n ;  the 
^vhistle 
lanced 
of  my 
a  fact, 
u.     It 
II  may 
■  Js  by 
id    all 
3  used 
xpect, 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THK    MINlSTKIl's    HORN    MUG. 

"  Tins  country,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  abounds  in 
superior  mill  privileges,  and  one  would  naterally 
calcnlate  that  such  a  sight  of  vatcr  power  would 
have  led  to  a  knowiediie  of  machiuerv.  I  <Tuess  if  a 
Bluenose  was  to  "o  to  one  of  our  free  and  enliirht- 
ened  citizens,  and  tell  him  Nova  Scotia  was  inter- 
sected with  rivers  and  brooks  in  all  directions,  and 
nearly  one  quarter  of  it  covered  with  water,  he'd  say, 
'  Well,  I'll  start  right  off  and  see  it,  I  vow,  fi^r  I 
fjuess  I'll  larn  somcthin'.  I  idiot  I'll  ixct  another 
wrinkle  away  down  East  there.  With  such  si)lendid 
chances  for  experimentin',  what  first-chop  mills  they 
must  have,  to  a  sartainty.  I'll  see  such  new  com- 
binations, and  such  new  applications  of  the  force  of 
water  to  motion,  that  I'll  make  my  fortin',  for  we  cati 
improve  on  anything  a'most.'  Well,  he'd  find  his 
mistake  ont,  I  guess,  as  1  did  once,  when  I  took  pas- 
sage in  the  nijiht  at  Xew  York  for  Providence,  and 
found  myself  the  next  mornin'  clean  out  to  sea, 
steerin'  awiy  for  Cape  Ilatteras,  in  the  Charleston 
steamer.     He'd  find  he'd  gone  to  the  wrong  place,  I 


204 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


i> 


•I 


U 


fl 

'■I 


I'M 


if 


I     i 


reckon  ;  there  ain't  a  mill  of  any  kind  in  tlie  Prov« 
ince  fit  to  be  seen.  If  we  had  'em,  we'd  sarve  'em 
as  we  do  the  gamblin'  houses  down  South,  —  pull 
'em  rij^lit  down;  there  wouldn't  be  one  on  'em  left  in 
eiiiht  and  forty  hours. 

'*  Some  domestic  factories  they  ought  to  have 
here  :  it's  an  essential  part  of  the  social  system. 
>»ow  we've  run  to  the  other  extreme  ;  it's  got  to  be 
too  big  an  interest  with  us,  and  ain't  suited  to  the 
political  institutions  of  our  great  country.  Natur' 
designed  us  for  an  agricultural  people,  and  our 
government  was  predicated  on  the  supposition  that 
we  would  be  so.  Mr.  Hopewell  was  of  the  same 
opinion.  He  was  a  great  hand  at  gardenin',  or- 
chardin',  farmin',  and  what  not.  One  evenin'  I  was 
up  to  his  house,  and  says  he,  '  Sam,  what  do  you  say 
to  a  bottle  of  my  old  genu?*«e  cider .''  I  guess  I  got 
some  that  will  take  the  shine  off  of  your  fither's  by 
a  long  chalk,  much  as  the  old  gentlemen  brags  of 
his'n.  I  never  bring  it  out  afore  him.  He  thinks 
he  has  the  best  in  all  Connecticut.  It's  an  innocent 
ambition  that ;  and,  Sam,  it  would  be  but  a  poor 
thing  for  me  to  gratify  my  pride  at  the  expense  of 
humblin'  his'n.  So  I  never  lets  on  that  I  have  any 
better,  but  keep  dark  about  this  superfine  particular 
article  of  mine,  for  I'd  as  lives  he'd  think  so  as  not.' 
He  was  a  real  })rimi^/re  good  man  was  minister.  'I 
got  some,'  said  h(%  '  that  was  bottled  that  very  year 
that  idorious  action  was  fought  atween  the  Conslitt'.- 
lion  and  the    Guerriere.     Perha[)s  the  whole  woric 


•i  ; 

t    ! 


le  ProV' 
irve  'em 
,  —  pull 
n  left  in 

;o    have 
system. 
)t  to  be 
to  the 
Natur' 
nd   our 
on  that 
i    sanie 
lin',  or- 
'  I  was 
ou  say 
s  I  got 
er's  by 
ags  of 
thinks 
nocent 
I  poor 
use  of 
ie  any 
^icular 
s  not.' 
r.       1 
,'  year 

woiic 


THE  MINISTER'S  HORN  MUG.  '^05 

30ulcln'l  show  such  a  brilliant  whippin'  as  that  was. 
It  was  a  splendid  deed,  that's  a  fact.  The  British 
can  whip  the  whole  airtli.  ami  we  can  whip  the 
British.  It  was  a  briirht  promise  for  our  voun*"- 
eagle:  a  uoble  bird  tliat,  too  —  great  stren<'th,  oieat 
courage,  and  surpassing  sagacity.' 

"  Well,  he  went  down  to  the  cellar,  and  brought 
up  a  bottle,  with  a  stick  tir'l  to  its  neck,  and  day  and 
date  to  it,  like  the  lye-bills  on  the  trees  in   Squire 
Hendrick's  garden.     'I  like  to  see  them  'ere  cob- 
webs,' says  he,  as  he  brushed  'em  off,  '  they  are  like 
gray  hairs  in  an  old  man's  head ;  they  indicate  vener- 
able old  age.'     As  he  uncorked  it,  savs  he,  '  I  'rness, 
Sam,  this  will  warm  your  gizzard,  my  boy  ;  I  guess 
our  great  nation  may  be  stumped  to  ijroduce  more 
eleganter    liquor    than    this    here.     It's   the  dandy, 
that's  a  fact.     That,'  said  he,  a  smackin'  his  lips,  and 
lookin'  at  it«  sparklin'  top,  and  layin'  back  his  head, 
and  tippin'  off  a  horn  mug  brimful   of  it  —  'that,' 
said  he,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  ag'in,  for  it  was  phioiiy 
strong  —  'that  is  the  produce  of  my  own  orchard.' 
'  Well,'  I  said,  '  minister,'  says  I,  '  I  never  see  you  a 
swigoin'  it  out  of  that  'ere  horn  muir.  that  I  don't 
think  of  one  of  your  texts.*     'What's  that,  Sam?' 
says  he, '  for  you  always  had  a  most  a  special  memory 
when  you  was  a  boy.*     '  Why,'  says  I, '  that  '^  the  horn 
of  the    risjhteous  man  shall   be  exalted;"    I    iiuess 
that's  what  they  mean   by'-exaltin'  the  horn."  ain't 
*t  ?  '     Lord,  if  ever   you  was  to  New  Oileens,  and 
$eed  a  black  thundercloud  rise  right  up  and  covei 


fl 


206 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


$■■-■ 
m 

i;    !;^ 

'F 

if          ■ 

I 

■  i 
1 

■';      ■  ■      ' 

4h 


■fr 


.«;|^f 


h 


the  whole  sky  in  a  minit,  you'd  a  thought  of  it  if  you 
had  seed  his  face.  It  looked  as  dark  as  Egypt 
'  For  shame  ! '  says  he,  '  Sam,  that's  ondecent ;  and 
let  me  tell  you  that  a  man  that  jokes  on  such  sub- 
jects, shows  both  a  lack  of  wit  and  sense  too.  I  like 
mirth,  you  know  I  do,  for  it's  only  the  Pharisees  and 
hypocrites  that  wear  long  faces,  but  then  mirth  must 
be  innoceut  to  please  nie  ;  and  when  1  see  a  Juan 
make  merry  with  serious  things,  I  set  him  down  as  a 
lost  sheep.  That  comes  of  your  speculatin'  to 
Lowell ;  and,  I  vow,  them  factorin'  towns  will  cor- 
rupt our  youth  of  both  sexes,  aud  become  hotbeds 
of  iniquity.  Evil  communications  endamnify  good 
manners,  as  sure  as  rates  ;  one  scabby  sheep  will  in- 
fect a  whole  flock  ;  vice  is  as  catchin'  as  that  nasty 
disease  the  Scotch  have,  it's  got  by  shakin'  hands, 
and  both  eend  in  the  same  way  —  in  brimstone.  I 
approbate  domestic  factories,  but  nothin'  further  for 
us.  It  don't  suit  us  or  our  institutions.  A  republic 
is  only  calculated  for  an  enlightened  and  vartuous 
people,  and  folks  chiefly  in  the  farmin'  line.  That 
is  an  innocent  and  a  happy  vocation.  Agriculture 
was  ordained  by  Him  as  made  us,  for  our  chief  oc- 
cupation.' 

"Thinks  I,  here's  a  pretty  how  do  you  do ;  I'm  in 
for  it  now,  that's  a  fact;  he'll  jist  fall  to  and  read  a 
regular  sarmon,  and  he  knows  so  many  by  heart 
he'll  never  stop.  It  would  take  a  Philadelphia 
iiwyer  to  answer  him.  So,  says  I, '  Minister,  I  ax 
your  pardon  ;  I  feel  very  ugly  at  bavin'  given  you 


'  I 


:ii-i 


THE  MlNlSTElVii   HORN  MUG. 


207 


it  if  you 
s  Egypt, 
ent ;  and 
iich  sub- 
).  I  like 
isces  and 
irth  must 
ie  a  man 
iowii  as  a 
ilatin'  to 
will  cor- 

hotbeds 
lify  good 
p  will  in- 
lat  nasty 
n'  hands, 
>t()ne.  I 
rtlier  for 

republic 
vartuous 
e.  That 
riculture 
chief  oc- 

I ;  I'm  in 
d  read  a 
by  heart 
adelphia 
ter,  I  ax 
iven  you 


oflTense,  but  I  didn't  mean  it,  T  do  assure  you.  It 
jist  popped  out  unex|)ectedly,  like  a  cork  out  of  one 
of  them  'ere  cider  bottles.  I'll  do  my  possibles  that 
the  like  don't  happen  ag'in,  you  may  depend  ;  so 
'spose  we  drink  a  glass  to  our  reconciliation.'  '  That 
1  will,'  said  he,  '  and  we  will  have  another  bottle  too, 
but  I  must  put  a  little  water  into  mt/  (/lass  (and  he 
dwelt  on  that  word,  and  looked  at  me,  quite  feelin', 
as  much  as  to  say.  Don't  for  goodness'  sake  make 
use  of  that  are  word  horn  ag'in,  for  it's  a  joke  I  don't 
like),  '  for  my  head  han't  quite  the  strength  my  cider 
has.  Taste  this,  8am,'  said  he  (openin'  of  another 
bottle)  ;  '  it's  of  the  same  age  as  the  last,  but  made 
of  different  apples,  and  I  am  fairly  stumped  some- 
times to  say  which  is  best.' 

•• '  These  are  the  pleasures,'  says  he,  '  of  a  country 
life.  A  man's  own  labor  provides  him  with  food, 
and  an  appetite  to  enjoy  it.  Let  him  look  which 
way  he  will,  and  he  sees  the  goodness  and  bounty 
of  his  Creator,  his  wisdom,  his  power,  and  his 
majesty.  There  never  was  anything  so  true,  as  that 
'ere  old  sayin',  ''Man  made  the  town,  but  God  made 
the  country,"  and  both  bespeak  their  different  archi- 
tects in  terms  too  plain  to  be  .misunderstood.  The 
one  is  filled  with  virtue,  and  the  other  with  vice. 
One  is  the  abode  of  plenty,  and  the  other  of  want: 
one  is  a  ware-duck  of  nice  pure  water,  and  t'other 
one  a  cess-pool.  Our  towns  are  gettin'  so  coinmer- 
rial  and  flic  tori  ng,  that  they  will  soon  generate  mobs, 
Sam  '  (how  true  that  'ere  has  turned  out,  hain't  it 


208 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


■'  'I 

I 


i. 


1  ■; 

'■  '^: 

t 

1^ 

i 

; 

.  ■  < :     ' 

i^ 

t 

% 

i  '{I 


»"^ 


H 


He  could  see  near  about  as  far  into  a  millstone  aJ» 
them  that  picks  the  hole  into  it),  '  and  mobs  will  in- 
troduce disobedience  and  defiance  to  laws,  and  tliat 
must  eend  in  anarchy  and  bloodshed.  No,'  said  the 
old  man,  raisino-  his  voice,  and  giving  the  tuble  a 
wipe  with  his  fist  that  made  the  glasses  all  jingle 
ag'in,  '  give  me  the  country  —  that  country  to  which 
lie  that  made  it  said,  "  Bring  forth  grass,  the  herb 
yieldin'seed,  and  the  tree  yieldin'  fruit,"  and  who  saw 
it  that  it  was  good.  Let  me  jine  with  the  feathered 
tribe  in  the  mornin'  (I  hope  you  get  up  airly  now, 
Sam  ;  when  you  was  a  boy  there  was  no  gittin'  y(  u 
out  of  bed  at  no  rate)  and  at  sunset,  in  tiie  hymns 
which  they  utter  in  full  tide  of  song  to  their  Creator. 
Let  me  pour  out  the  thankfulness  of  my  heart  to  the 
Giver  of  all  oood  things,  for  the  numerous  blessings 
I  enjoy,  and  Intreat  Him  to  bless  my  increase,  that  I 
may  have  wherewitiial  to  relieve  the  wants  of  others, 
as  He  prevents  and  relieves  mine.  No  !  give  me  the 
country.  It's  ' —  Minister  was  jist  like  a  horse  that 
has  the  spavin ;  he  sot  oflf  considerable  stiff  at  first, 
but  when  he  once  got  under  way,  he  got  on  like  a 
house  afire.  lie  went  like  the  wind,  full  split.  He 
was  jist  beginnin'  to  warm  on  the  sul)ject,  and  I 
knew  if  he  did,  what  wonderful  bottom  he  had  ;  how 
he  would  hauij  on  forever  a'most ;  so  says  I,  '  I  think 
80  too,  Minister  ;  I  like  the  country  ;  I  always  sleep 
better  there  Chan  in  towns  ;  it  ain't  so  plaguy  hot, 
nor  so  noisy  neither;  and  then  it's  a  pleasant  thing 
to    et  out  on  the  stoop  and  smoke  iii  the  cool,  ain't 


.1 


THE  MINISTER'S  HORN  MUG. 


209 


Istone  aj» 
•  will  in- 
aiul  that 
said  the 

tiible  a 
11  jingle 
;o  which 
lie  herb 
who  saw 
withered 
i"Iy  now, 
:tin'  y(  u 
i  hymns 
Creator, 
t  to  the 
lessinjjs 
},  that  I 
i*  others, 

me  the 
rse  that 
at  first, 
1  like  a 
it.  He 
,  and  I 
'\  ;  how 
I  think 
s  sleep 
iiy  hot, 
t  thiiiff 
il,  ain't 


it?  I  think,'  says  I,  '  too,  IMinister,  that  'ere  uncom- 
mon handsuni  cider  of  yoiu'n  desarves  a  i)ii)e;  what 
do  you  think?'  '  Well,'  says  he,  *I  think  nivself  a 
pipe  wouldn't  be  amiss,  and  I  got  some  raei  good 
Varginny  as  you  e'enamost  ever  seed,  a  present  from 
Rowland  Randolph,  an  old  college  chum;  and  none 
the  worse  to  my  palate,  Sam,  f(U'  brinj-in'  bv<H)ne 
recollectior.s  with  it.  riioebe.  my  dear,'  said  he  to 
his  darter,  '  bring  the  pipes  and  tobacco.'  As  soon 
as  the  old  gentleman  fairly  got  a  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
I  give  l*ha3be  a  wink,  as  much  as  to  say,  Wurn't  th:it 
well  done?  That's  what  I  call  a  nu)st  particular 
handsum  fix.  He  can  talk  now  (and  that  I  do  like 
to  hear  him  do)  ;  but  he  can't  make  a  speech,  or 
preach  a  sarmon,  and  that  I  don't  like  to  hear  him 
do,  except  on  Sabbath  i}.i\^',  or  up  to  Town  Hall,  on 
oration  times. 

''Minister  was  an  unconnnon  pleasant  man,  —  for 
there  'vas  nothin'  a'most  he  didn't  know, — except 
when  he  got  his  dander  up,  and  then  he  did  spin  out 
his  yarns  for  everlastinly. 

*'  But  I'm  of  his  opinion.  If  the  folks  here  want 
their  country  to  go  ahead,  they  nuist  honor  the 
plough  ;  and  General  Campbell  ought  to  hannner 
that  'ere  into  their  noddles,  full  chisel,  as  hard  as  he 
can  dri^'e.  I  could  larn  him  somethin',  I  guess, 
about  hammerin'  he  ain't  up  to.  It  ain't  every  one 
that  knows  how  to  beat  a  thino-  into  a  man's  head. 
How  could  1  have  sold  so  many  thousand  clocks,  if  I 
14 


1 
1 

F 

i 

ii 
f 

210 


TUK   CLOCKMAKKR. 


Ii! 
'i 


-*1      ' 


hadn't  had  that  knack?     Why,  I  woukhrt  have  sold 
half  a  dozen,  yon  may  depend. 

"  Agricnltnre  is  not  only  neglected  bnt  degraded 
here.  What  a  nuinl)er  of  yonng  folks  there  seem  to 
be  in  tliese  parts,  a  ridin'  abont,  titivated  ont  real 
jam,  in  their  go-to-meetin'  clotlies,  a  doin'  nothin*. 
It's  melancholy  to  tliink  on  it.  That's  the  effect  of 
the  last  war.  The  idleness  and  extravasfance  of 
those  times  took  root,  and  bore  frnit  abundantly,  and 
now  the  young  people  are  above  their  b'lsiness. 
They  are  too  high  in  the. instep,  that's  a  fact. 

"Old  Drivvle,  down  here  to  Maccan,  said  to  me 
one  day,  '  For  gracious'  sake,'  says  he,  '  INIr.  Slick, 
do  tell  me  what  I  shall  do  with  Johnny  His  mother 
sets  great  store  by  him,  and  thinks  he's  the  makins 
of  a  considerable  smart  man  ;  he's  growin'  np  fast 
now,  and  I  am  pretty  well  to  do  in  the  world,  and 
reasonable  forehanded,  but  I  don't  know  what  the 
dogs  to  put  him  to.  Tiie  Lawyers  are  like  spiders,  — 
they've  eat  np  all  the  flies,  and  I  guess  they'll  have 
to  eat  each  other  soon,  for  there's  more  on  'em  than 
causes  now  every  court.  The  Doctors'  trade  is  a 
poor  one,  too ;  they  don't  get  barely  cash  enough  to 
pay  for  their  medicines ;  I  never  seed  a  coimtry 
practitioner  yet  that  made  anything  worth  speakin' 
of.  Then,  as  for  preachin',  why  church  and  dis- 
senters are  pretty  much  tarred  with  the  same  stick 
they  live  in  the  same  pastur'  with  their  flocks,  and, 
between  'em,  it's  fed  down  pretty  close  I  tell  you 
What    would   you    advise    me    to    do    with    him  ? 


THE  MINISTER'S  HORN  MUG. 


'211 


lave  sold 

le<^radecl 
seem  to 
out  real 
nothin'. 
jfFect  of 
ance  of 
itly,  and 
)'isiness. 

I  to  nie 
r.  Slick, 
mother 
makins 
up  fast 
rid,  and 
liat  the 
ders,  — 
'11  have 
m  th:ui 
de  is  a 
High  to 
country 
peakin' 
id    dis- 

I  stick 
:s,  and, 

II  vou 
him  ? 


Well,'  says  I,  '  I'll  toll  you  if  you  won't  l)f  niilTy 
with  me.'  '  Mifly  with  you  indeed,'  said  lie,'  I  j^uess 
I'll  be  very  much  obliged  to  vou  ;  it  ain't  every  day 
one  ;^ets  a  chance  to  consult  with  a  person  of  your 
experience  ;  I  count  it  quite  a  privileoe  to  have  the 
opinion  of  such  an  understandin'  man  as  you  be.' 
'  Well,'  sa}s  I, '  take  a  slick  and  give  him  a  rael  good 
(piiltiu' ;  jist  tantune  him  blazes,  and  set  him  to 
work.  What  does  the  critter  want?  you  have  a 
good  farm  for  him,  let  hini  go  and  airn  his  bread  ; 
and  when  he  can  raise  that,  let  him  get  a  wife  to 
make  butter  for  it;  and  when  he  has  more  of  both 
than  he  wants,  let  him  seH'em  and  lay  up  his  money, 
and  he  will  soon  hav2  his  bread  buttered  on  both 
sides.  Put  him  to,  eh  !  why,  put  him  to  the  PLOir.n, 
t/ie  most  natera/,  the  most  happf/^  the  ntost  innocent,  and 
the  most  health?/  employment  in  the  loorhU  '  lUit,'  said 
the  old  man  (and  he  did  not  look  over  half  pleased), 
'  markets  are  so  confounded  dull,  labor  so  high,  and 
the  banks  and  great  folks  aswallerin'  all  up  so,  there 
don't  seem  much  encouragement  for  farmers  ;  it's 
hard  rubbin',  nowadays,  to  live  by  the  plough  —  he'll 
be  a  hard  workin'  poor  man  all  his  days.'  '  O  ! '  says 
I,  '  if  he  wants  to  fjet  rich  bv  f[irmin',  he  can  do  that 
too.  Let  him  sell  his  wheat,  and  eat  his  oatmeal 
and  rye;  send  his  beef,  mutton,  and  poultry  to 
market,  and  eat  his  pork  and  potatoes  ;  make  his 
own  cloth,  weave  his  own  linen,  and  keep  out  of 
^hops,  and  he'll  soon  grow  rich  :  there  are  more  *. 
*brtins    got    bv  savin'    than    bv  makin',    I    guess,  a 


■J. 


\'.t 


■Hi 


212 


TriE   CLOCKMAKER. 


'[ 


plajTuy  siijjlit;  ho  cim't  eat  his  cake  and  liavc  it  too, 
tiiat's  a  fact.  No\  mnka  n  farmer  of  Inni,  ami  j/tni  will 
have  the  satisfaction  of  sc.clnfi  Jtini  an  honest,  an.  inde- 
pendent, and  a  respectable  uie miter  of  socii  tj/  ;  more 
honest  than  traders,  more  independent  titan  professional 
men,  and  more  respectable  titan  either* 

"'Ahem!'  savs  Marm  Drivvle,  and  she  bcijfan  tc 
clear  lier  tliroat  for  action  ;  she  shunped  down  her 
knittiii'  and  clawed  oil'  her  spectacles,  and  looked 
riiiht  straiiiiit  at  nie.  so  as  to  take  liood  aim.  I  seed 
a  regnlar  nor'wester  a  brewin',  I  knew  it  would  bust 
somewhere  sartin,  and  make  all  smoke  ag'in,  so  I 
cleared  out  and  left  old  Drivvle  to  stand  the  squall. 
I  conceit  he  must  have  had  a  tempestical  time  of  it, 
for  she  had  got  her  Kbenezer  up,  and  looked  like  a 
proper  sneezer.  Make  her  Johnny  a  farmer,  eh  !  I 
guess  that  was  too  much  for  the  like  o'  her  to 
stomach. 

"  Pride,  Squire^'^  continued  the  Clockmaker  (with 
such  an  air  of  concern,  that,  I  verily  believe,  the 
man  feels  an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  a  Province  in 
which  he  has  spent  so  long  a  time),  "  Pride^  Squire^ 
and  a  false  pride,  too,  is  the  ruin  of  this  country  ;  a 
hope  1  may  be  skinned  if  it  ain^tJ'* 


¥' 


vo  it  too, 

an.  indc- 
y  ;  more 

^fassionul 

)ogan  tc 

own  licT 

looked 

I  seed 

lid  bust 

in,  so  I 

5  squall. 

le  of  it, 

I  like  a 

%  eh  !  I 

her    to 

ir  (with 
ve,  the 
/ince  in 
Squire^ 
ntry;  ^ 


CIIAPTKR  XXVII. 


THE    WIIITK    NICJGKR. 


One  of  the  most  niniablo,  and  at  the  same  time 
most  amusinjx  traits,  in  tlu*  Clockinakcr's  cliaracter, 
was  the  attacliment  and  kindness  with  wliich  he 
regarded  liis  horse.  He  consiilered  •*  Old  ("lav  "  as 
far  above  a  Provinciid  iiorse,  as  lie  did  oiu;  (d"  !iis 
"  free  and  enliohtened  citizens  "  snpciior  ton  lilne- 
iiose.  He  treated  him  as  a  travelling;"  companion, 
and  when  conversation  flaLii^ed  between  us.  would 
often  soliloquize  to  him,  a  habit  contracted  from  pur- 
suing his  journevs  alone. 

"  Well,  now,"  he  would  sav,  "  Old  Clav.  1  iiuess 
you  took  your  time  a^roin'  up  that  'ere  hill  — s'jiose 
we  progress  now.  Go  along,  you  old  scnlpin.  and 
turn  out  your  toes.  I  reckon  you  are  as  (\k^^  as  a 
shad,  do  you  hear  there?  Cio  aln  ad  !  Old  Clay. 
There  now,"  he'd  say,  "  'Scpiire.  ain'r.  that  dreadful 
j)retty  ?  There's  action.  That  looks  about  right: 
l(;gs  all  under  him  —  gathers  all  up  snug — no 
bobbin' of  his  head  —  no  rollin"  of  his  shoulders — ■ 
no  wabblin'  of  his  hind  parts,  but  st(\*idy  as  a  pump 
oolt,  and  the  motion  all  underneath.      When  he  fairl} 


214 


THE   CLOCKAfAKER. 


It; 


ji'i 


;     I 

I; 


•"•1 
)'  ? 


layi  himself  to  it,  he  trots  like  all  vengeance.  Then 
look  at  his  car  —  jist  like  rahl)ii's  ;  none  o'yonr  fioj)- 
ears  lil<(*  then)  Amherst  beasts,  half  horses,  iuilf  j)i<;s, 
bnt  straight  up  and  p'inted,  and  not  too  near  at  the 
tips;  for  tliat  'ere,  I  consail,  always  sliows  a  horse 
ain't  true  to  draw.  There  are  <>nh/  tiro  f/n'/n/s/Sfpn're 
worth  lookin  at  in  a  horse,  action  and  sounf/ncss  ;  for 
[never  saio  a  critter  that  had  good  action  that  iras  a 
had  hcdst.  Old  Clay  i)uts  me  in  n)ind  of  one  of  our 
free  and  eidightened  "  — 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  I,  "  iMr.  Slick,  bnt  really  you 
appropriate  that  word  '  {vv.q  '  to  yonr  countrymen,  as 
if  you  thought  no  other  ])eop]e  in  the  world  were 
entitled  to  it  bnt  yourselves." 

"  Neither  be  thev,"  said  he.  "  We  first  sot  the 
example.  Look  at  our  Declaration  of  Independence. 
It  was  writ  by  Jefferson,  and  he  was  the  first  man  of 
the  age ;  perhaps  the  world  never  seed  his  ditto. 
It's  a  beautiful  })iece  of  penmanship  that;  he  gave 
the  l^ritish  the  but-eend  of  his  mind  tliere.  I  cal- 
culate you  couldn't  fault  it  in  no  particular ;  its  gen- 
erally allowed  to  be  his  cap-sheaf.  In  the  first  page 
of  it,  second  section,  and  first  varse,  are  these  words  : 
'  We  hold  this  truth  to  be  self-evident,  that  all  men 
are  created  equal.'  I  guess  King  George  turned  his 
quid  when  he  read  that.  It  was  somethin'  to  chaw 
on,  he  hadn't  been  used  to  the  flavor  of,  I  reckon." 

"Jefferson  forgot  to  insert  one  little  word,"  said  I; 
•'he  should  have  said,  '  all  white  men  ; '  for  as  it  now 
stands,  it  is  a  practical  untruth  in  a  country  which 


THE  WHITE  NIGGER. 


2l0 


Tlion 
nr  flop- 
ilf  pins, 
•  at  tlu^ 
;i  horse 

'ss  ;  for 
t  was  a 

I  of  our 

illy  you 
men,  as 
d  were 

•>ot  the 
idence. 
man  of 

ditto, 
e  gave 

I  cal- 
ts  gen- 
st  page 
words : 

II  men 
led  his 
)  chaw 
<on." 
said  I ; 
it  now 
which 


tolerates  domestic  slavery  in  its  worst  and  most  for- 
bidding form.  It  is  a  declaration  of  shdmc,  and  not 
nt'  im/rpnndence.  It  is  as  jUMlt'Lta  misnomer  as  ever 
I  knew." 

"  Well."  said  he,  ''  I  mnst  admit  there  is  a  screw 
h)Ose  somewhere  thereabouts,  and  I  wish  it  would 
convene  to  Congress  to  do  somelhin'  or  another 
about  our  nig<j;ers,  but  I  am  not  quite  certified  how 
that  is  to  be  sot  to  rights  ;  I  consait  that  you  don't 
understand  ns.  But,"  said  he,  evading  the  subject 
with  his  usual  dext(!ritv,  '•  we  deal  onlv  in  ni<'^«»^eis, 
—  and  those  thiek-skulI(Hl,  erooked-shaidicd,  tlat- 
footed,  l(>ng-iieeled,  woolly-headed  gentlemen  don't 
seem  fit  for  much  else  but  slavery,  I  do  suppose  ; 
they  ain't  fit  to  contrive  for  themselves.  Tliey  are 
just  like  grasshoppers  ;  they  dance  and  sing  all  sum- 
mer, and  when  winter  comes  they  have  nothin'  pro- 
vided for  it,  and  lay  down  and  die.  They  re(piire 
some  one  to  see  arter  them.  Now,  we  deal  in  black 
niggers  only,  but  the  l>luenoses  sell  their  own  spe- 
cies—  they  trade  in  white  slaves." 

*'  Thank  God  ! "  said  T,  "  slavery  does  not  exist  in 
any  part  of  his  Majesty's  dominions  now;  we  have  at 
last  wiped  off  that  national  stain." 

"Not  quite,  I  guess,"  said  he,  with  an  air  of  tri- 
um})h,  "it  ain't  done  with  in  Nova  Scotia,  for  I  have 
seed  these  human  cattle  sales  with  my  own  eyes  ;  I 
was  availed  of  the  truth  of  it  up  here  to  old  i'm-long's 
last  November.  I'll  tell  you  tin?  ^^tory,"  said  he  ;  and 
as  this  story  of  the  Clockmaker's  contained    some 


216 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


rV 


if 


lit 


i^i 


e^Tt^-aoidinary  statements  whicli  T  had  never  heard 
of  before,  I  noted  it  in  my  journal,  for  tlie  purpose 
of  ascertaining  their  truth  ;  and,  if  founded  on  fact, 
of  hiving  Hiem  before  tlie  proper  authorities. 

"  Last  fall,"  said  he,  "  I  was  on  my  way  to  Par- 
tridge Island,  to  shif  off  some  truck  and  produce  I 
had  taken  in,  in  the  way  of  trade  ;  and  as  I  neared 
old  Furlong's  house,  I  seed  an  amazin'  crowd  of 
folks  about  the  door;  I  said  to  myself,  says  I,  Who's 
dead,  and  what's  to  pay  now  ?  what  on  airth  is  the 
meanin'  of  all  this?  Is  it  a  vandew,  or  a  weddin',  or 
a  rollin'  frolic,  or  a  religious  stir,  or  what  is  it  ? 
Thinks  I,  I'll  see  ;  so  I  hitches  Old  Clay  to  the  fence, 
and  walks  in.  It  was  some  time  afore  I  was  able  to 
wiggle  my  way  through  the  crowd,  and  get  into  the 
house.  And  when  I  did,  who  should  I  see  but  Dea- 
con Westfall,  a  smooth-faced,  slick-haired,  meechin' 
lookin'  chap  as  you'd  see  in  a  hundred,  a  standin'  on 
a  stool,  with  an  auctioneer  s  hannner  in  his  hand ; 
and  afore  him  was  one  Jerry  Oaks  and  liis  wife,  and 
two  little  orphan  children,  the  prettiest  little  toads  I 
ever  beheld  in  all  my  born  days.  '  Gentlemen,'  said 
he,  '  I  will  begin  the  sale  by  putting  up  Jerry  Oaks, 
of  Apple  River;  he's  a  considerable  of  a  smart  man 
yet,  and  can  do  many  little  chores  besides  feedin' 
the  children  and  pigs ;  I  guess  he's  near  about  worth 
his  keep.'  'Will  you  warrant  him  sound,  wind  and 
limb?'  says  a  tall,  ragged  lookin'  countryman,  'for 
he  looks  to  me  as  if  he  was  foundered  in  both  feet, 
and  had  a  string  halt  into  the  bargain.'     '  When  yoi: 


p«». ._ 


THE   WHITE   SIGGER. 


217 


T  heard 

purpose 
on  fact, 


to  Par- 
roduce  I 

neared 
rowd  of 
[,  Who's 
h  is  tho 
ddin',  or 
X  is  it? 
le  fence, 

able  to 
into  tlie 
)ut  Dea- 
neeciiin' 
ndin*  on 
s  hand ; 
ife,  and 

toads  I 
en,'  said 
■y  Oaks, 
art  !iian 

feed  in' 
it  worth 
ind  and 
lan,  '  for 
[)th  ^o.eX, 
hen  voi: 


ttre  as  old  as  I  be,'  says  Jerry,  '  mayhan  yon  may  be 
foundered  too,  youn^;  man  ;  I  have  sien  the  (hiy 
when  you  woul(hi't  dare  to  pass  that  joke  on  ine,  bi<^ 
as  }ou  be.'  '  Will  any  gentleman  bill  ibr  him,'  bays 
the  Deacon,  '  he's  cheap  at  1$.  Or/.'  '  Why  Deacon,' 
said  Jerry,  '  why  surely  your  honor  isn't  agoin'  for  to 
sell  me  separate  from  my  poor  old  wile,  are  you  ? 
Fifty  years  have  we  lived  together  as  n.^-.n  and  wife, 
and  a  j^ood  wife  has  she  been  to  me,  throuiili  all  my 
tronbles  and  trials,  and  God  knows  I  have  had 
enough  of  'em.  No  one  knows  mv  wavs  and  mv 
ailments  but  her;  and  who  can  tend  me  so  kind,  or 
who  will  bear  with  the  complaints  of  a  poor  old  man 
but  his  wife?  Do,  Deacon,  and  Heaven  bless  you  for 
it,  and  yours,  do  sell  us  together;  we  have  but  a  ^^w 
days  to  live  now,  death  will  divide  us  soon  enough. 
Leave  her  to  close  my  old  eves,  when  the  stiii"<j[le 
comes,  and  when  it  comes  to  you.  Deacon,  as  come  it 
must  to  us  all,  may  this  oood  dted  rise  up  for  vou, 
as  a  memorial  before  God.  I  wish  it  had  pleased 
Him  to  have  taken  us  afore  it  came  to  this,  but  his 
will  be  done  ; '  and  he  hung  his  head,  as  if  ii  ^  felt 
he  had  drained  the  cup  of  degradation  to  its  (\v^  gs. 
Can't  afford  it,  Jerry  —  can't  afford  it,  old  m:in.'  ^aid 
the  Deacon,  with  s  ich  a  smile  as  a  November  sun 
gives,  a  passin'  atween  clouds.  ••  Last  year  they 
took  oats  for  rates,  now  nothin'  but  wheat  will  gc 
down,  and  that's  as  good  as  cash  ;  and  you'll  hang 
on,  as  most  of  you  do.  vet  these  manv  years. 
There's  old  Joe  Crowe,  1  believe  in  my  conscience 


218 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


m 


ill 


V  1 


■ ;  "1  ■ 


,i    t 


he  will  live  forever.*  The  bicldin'  then  went  on,  and 
he  was  sold  for  six  shillings  a  week.  Well,  the  poor 
critter  gave  one  long,  loud,  deep  groan,  and  then 
folded  his  arms  over  his  breast,  so  tight  that  he 
seemed  tryin'  to  keep  in  his  heart  from  biistin'.  I 
pitied  the  misfortunate  wretch  from  my  soul ;  I  don't 
know  as  I  ever  felt  so  streaked  afore.  Not  so  his 
wife,  —  she  was  all  tongue.  She  begged,  and 
prayed,  and  cried,  and  scolded,  and  talked  at  the 
very  tip  eend  of  her  voice,  till  she  became,  poor  crit- 
ter, exhausted,  and  went  off  in  a  faintin'  fit,  and  they 
ketched  her  up  and  carried  her  out  to  the  air,  and 
she  was  sold  in  that  condition. 

"  Well,  i  couldn't  make  head  or  tail  of  all  this,  I 
could  hardlv  believe  mv  eyes  and  ears  ;  so  sa\  s  1  to 
John  Porter, — him  that  has  that  catamount  of  a 
wife,  that  I  had  such  a  touse  with,  —  'John  Porter,' 
says  I,  '  who  ever  seed  or  heerd  tell  of  the  like  of 
this?  what  under  the  sun  does  it  all  mean  ?  What 
has  that  'ere  critter  done  that  he  should  be  sold 
arter  that  fashion  ? '  '  Done  ?  '  said  he,  '  why  notiiin', 
and  that's  the  reason  they  sell  him.  This  is  town- 
rneetin'  day,  and  we  always  sell  the  poor  for  the  year, 
to  the  lowest  bidder.  Them  that  will  keep  them  for 
the  lowest  sum,  gets  them.'  '  Why,'  says  I,  *  that 
feller  that  bought  him  is  a  paui)er  himself,  to  my  sartin 
knowledge.  If  you  were  to  tai<e  him  up  by  the  heels 
and  shake  him  for  a  week,  you  couldn't  shake  six- 
penoe  out  of  him.  How  can  he  keep  him?  it  ap- 
p^Hrs  to  me  the  poor  buy  the  poor  here,  and  that 


;J 


THE  WHITE  NIGGER. 


219 


t  on,  and 
the  poor 
md  then 
that    he 
istin'.     I 
;  I  don't 
t  so    his 
ed,    and 
i   at   the 
oor  crit- 
md  they 
air,  and 

II  this,  I 
ays  1  to 
nt  of  a 
Porter,' 
like  of 
What 
)e   sold 
nothin', 
s  town- 
le  year, 
leni  for 
,  'that 
\'  sartiu 
e  heels 
ve  six- 
it  ap. 
d   that 


they  all  starve  together.'  Says  I,  '  there  was  a  very 
good  man  once  lived  to  Liverpool,  so  good,  he  said 
he  hadn't  sinned  for  seven  years  :  well,  he  jint  a 
mill-dam  across  the  river,  and  stopped  all  the  fish 
from  goin'  up,  and  the  court  fined  him  fifty  pounds 
for  it ;  and  this  good  man  was  so  wrathy,  he  thought 
he  shoidd  feel  better  to  swear  a  little,  but  conscience 
told  him  it  was  wicked.  So  he  comj)ounded  with 
conscience,  and  cheated  the  devil,  bv  callino-  it  a 
"  dam  fine  business."  Now,  friend  Porter,  if  this  is 
your  poor-law,  it  is  a  danm  poor  law,  1  tell  you,  and 
no  o^ood  can  come  of  such  hard-hearted  doins.  It's 
no  wonder  your  country  don't  prosper,  for  who  ever 
heerd  of  a  blessin'  on  such  carryius  on  as  this?' 
Says  I,  '  Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  a  sartain  rich  man, 
that  had  a  bciijiar  called  Lazarus  laid  at  his  <rate. 
and  how  the  dogs  had  mere  conipassion  than  he  had, 
and  came  and  licked  his  sores  ?  cause  if  you  have, 
look  at  that  forehanded  and  'sponsible  man  there, 
Deacon  AV^estfall,  and  you  see  the  rich  man.  And 
then  look  at  that  'ere  pauper,  dragged  away  in  that 
ox-cart  from  his  wife  forever,  like  a  feller  to  States' 
Prison,  and  you  see  Lazarus.  Recollect  what 
follered,  John  Porter,  and  have  neither  art  nor  part 
in  it,  as  you  are  a  Christian  man.' 

"It  fairly  made  mr    sick  all  dav.     John    Porter 
follered  me  out  of  iiie  house,  and  as  I  was  a  turnin' 
Old  Clay,  said  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,'  says  he,  '  I  never  seed 
it  in  that  'ere  light  afore,  for;  it's  our  custom,  and   j 
custom,  you  know,  will  reconcile  one  to  'most  any- 


220 


THE   CLOCKMAKElt. 


il 
III 


thing.  I  must  say,  it  does  appear,  as  you  lay  it  out, 
an  unfeelin'  way  of  providin'  for  the  poor;  but,  as 
touchin'  the  matter  of  dividin'  man  and  wife,  why* 
(and  he  peered  all  round  to  see  that  no  one  was 
within  hearin'),  '  wliy,  I  don't  know,  but  if  it  w^as  my 
allotment  to  be  sold,  I'd  as  lieves  they'd  sell  me 
separate  from  Jane  as  not,  for  it  appears  to  ..-c  it's 
about  the  best  part  of  it.' 

"  Now,  what  I  have  told  you,  Squire  said  the 
ClockmaUer,  "  is  the  truth  ;  and  if  members,  instead 
of  their  everlasdn'  politics,  would  only  look  into 
these  matters  a  little,  I  guess  it  would  be  far  better 
for  the  country.  So,  as  for  our  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, I  guess  you  needn't  twit  me  with  our 
slave-sales,  for  we  deal  only  in  blacks ;  but  Blue- 
nose  approbates  no  distinction  in  colors,  and  when 
reduced  to  poverty,  is  reduced  to  slavery,  and  h 
Bold  —  a  white  ni^c/er" 


\ 


\^< 


iiy  it  out, 

;  but,  as 
ife,  why' 
one  was 
;  was  my 
sell    nie 

0  ...c  it's 

said  the 
,  instead 
ok  into 
r  better 
of Inde- 
ith  our 
t  Bhie- 
d  when 
and  h 


\ 


! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


FIRE    IN    THE    DAIRY. 


As  we  approached  within  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
of  Parrsboro',  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road  broiioht  ns 
directly  in  front  of  a  lar«;e  wooden  house,  consisting 
of  two  stories  and  an  immense  roof,  the  heiijjiit  of 
which  edifice  was  much  increased  by  a  stone  founda- 
tion, risin<T  several  feet  above  "round. 

"  Now,  did  you  ever  see,"  said  INIr.  Slick,  '-such  a 
catamaran  as  that  ?  there's  a  proper  goney  for  you, 
for  to  go  and  raise  such  a  buildin'  as  that  'ere.  and 
he  as  much  use  for  it,  I  do  suppose  as  my  old  wagon 
here  has  for  a  fifth  wheel.  Bluenose  always  takes 
keer  to  have  a  big  house,  'cause  it  shows  a  big  m..n, 
and  cue  that's  considerable  forehanded,  and  pretty 
well  to  do  in  the  world.  These  Nova  Scotians  turn 
up  their  blue  noses  as  a  bottle-nose  porpoise  turns 
up  his  snout,  and  puff  and  snort  exactly  like  him  at 
a  small  house.  If  neighbor  Carrit  has  a  two  story 
house,  a!l  filled  with  winders,  like  Sandy  Hook  liuht 
House,  neighbor  Parsnip  nuistadd  jist  two  feet  more 
on  to  the  post  of  his'n,  and  ahouL  as  much  more  to 
\he  rafter,  to  go  ahead  of  him      so  all  these  long 


222 


THF   CLOCKMAKER. 


.■>, 


\n 


Barce  jjeiitlemen  strive  who  ciui  Qfot  the  furde.->t  iB 
the  sky,  away  from  their  farms.  In  >«e\v  England 
our  maxim  is  a  small  house,  and  a  most  an  ever- 
histin'  almighty  big  barn  ;  but  these  critters  revarse 
it;  tliey  have  little  hovels  for  their  cattle,  about  the 
bigness  ol'  a  good  sizable  bear  trap,  and  a  house  for 
the  humans  as  grand  as  Noah's  Ark.  AVell,  jist  look 
at  it  and  see  what  a  fiiiur'  it  does  cut.  iVn  old  hat 
stuffed  into  one  pane  of  glass,  and  an  old  flannel 
petticoat,  as  yaller  as  jaundice,  in  another,  finish  off 
the  front;  an  old  pair  i^^  bieeches,  and  the  pad  of  a 
bran  new  cart-saddle  worn  out,  titivate  the  eend, 
while  the  backside  is  all  closed  up  on  account  of  the 
wind.  When  it  rains,  if  there  ain't  a  pretty  how-do- 
you-do,  it's  a  pity  —  beds  toted  out  of  this  room  and 
tubs  set  in  t'other  to  catch  soft  water  to  wash  ;  while 
the  clapboards,  loose  at  the  eends,  go  clap,  clap,  clap, 
like  gals  a  hacklin'  flax,  and  the  winders  and  doors 
keep  a  dancin'  to  the  nuisic.  The  only  dry  place  in 
the  house  is  in  the  chimbley  corner,  where  the  folks 
all  huddle  up,  as  an  old  hen  and  her  chickens  do 
under  a  cart  of  a  wet  day.  '  I  wish  I  had  the  matter 
of  half  a  dozen  pound  of  nails,'  you'll  hear  the  old 
gentleman  in  the  grand  house  say,  '  I'll  be  darned  if 
I  don't,  for  if  I  h;id  I'd  fix  them  'ere  clapboards ;  I 
guess  they'll  go  for  it  some  o'  these  days.'  '  1  wish 
you  had,'  his  wife  would  say,  '  for  they  do  make  a 
most  particular  unhansum  clatter,  that's  a  fact;' 
and  so  they  let  it  be  till  the  next  tempestical  time 
comes,  and  then  they  wish  ag'in.     Now,  this  grand 


FIRE  IN   Till::  DAIRY. 


irde.-jt  in 
England 
in  ever- 

revarse 
joiit  the 
ouse  for 
jist  look 
old  hat 

flannel 
tiish  off 
Dad  of  a 
e  eend, 
t  of  the 
hovv-do- 
oin  and 

;  while 
ip,  clap, 
d  doors 
)laco  in 
16  folks 
vL'tis  do 

matter 
the  old 
rned  if 
irds ;  I 

1  wish 
nake  a 

fact ; ' 
d  time 

grand 


housd  has  only  two  rooms  down-stairs  that  arc  alto- 
gether slicked  up  and  finished  ofl'  complete;  tlie 
other  is  jist  petitioned  olf  rouuii  like,  one  half  great 
dark  entries,  and  t'other  half  places  that  look  a 
plaguy  sight  more  like  p:»ekin'  boxes  than  roouis. 
Well,  all  up-stairs  is  a  great  onfiruished  place,  fdled 
with  every  sort  of  good-for-nothin'  trumpery  in 
natur' — barrels  wilhout  eeuds ;  corn-cobs  half 
husked;  cast-off  clothes  and  biis  of  old  harness; 
sheep-skins,  hides,  and  wool  ;  ap|)les,  one  half  rotten, 
and  t'other  half  squashed ;  a  thousand  or  two  of 
shingles  that  have  bust  their  withes,  and  broke  loose 
all  over  the  floor;  hay  rakes,  forks,  and  sickles, 
without  handles  or  teeth  ;  rustv  scythes,  and  odds 
and  eends  without  number.  When  an\thiii<'^  is 
wanted,  then  there  is  a  general  overhaul  of  the  whole 
cargo,  and  away  they  get  shifted  foi  rard,  one  by  one, 
all  handled  over  and  chucked  into  a  lieap  together 
till  the  lost  one  is  foimd  ;  and  the  next  time,  away 
they  get  pitched  to  the  starn  ag'in,  higgK;ty  pigglety, 
Ijeels  over  head,  like  sheep  takin'  a  split  for  it  over 
a  wall ;  only  they  increase  in  number  each  move, 
i^ause  some  on  'em  are  sure  to  get  broke  into  more 
pieces  than  there  was  afore.  Whenever  I  see  one 
•jf  these  grand  houses,  and  a  hat  lookin'  out  o'  the 
winder  with  nary  head  in  it,  think  1.  I'll  be-  darned 
if  that's  a  place  for  a  wooden  clock. —  nothin'  short 
of  a  London  touch  would  <:"o  down  with  them  folks, 
BO  I  calculate  I  won't  ali<»ht. 

Whenever  you  come  to  such  a  grand  place  as 


i 


224 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


111 

% 


»   I 


li  * 


ii^ 


J,  >?' 


this,  'Squire,  dcponcl  on't  the  firm  is  nil  of  a  piet!** 
great  crops  of  thistles,  and  an  everlastin'  yield  of 
weeds,  and  catthj  the  best  fed  of  any  in  the  country, 
for  they  are  al./.tys  in  tlui  grain  fields  or  niowiu' 
lands,  and  the  pigs  a  rootin'  in  the  potato  i)atches. 
A  spic  and  span  new  gig  at  the  door,  shinin'  like  the 
mud  banks  of  Windsor,  when  the  sun's  on  'em,  and 
an  old  wrack  of  a  hay  wagon,  with  its  tongue  on- 
hitched,  and  stickin'  out  behind,  like  a  pig's  t;>il,  all 
indicate  a  bi<j;  man.  He's  above  thinkin'  of  farmln' 
tools,  he  sees  to  the  bran  new  gig ;  and  the  hired 
helps  look  arter  the  carts.  Catch  him  with  his  gc 
to-meetin'  clothes  on,  a  rubbin'  agii\  their  na.'ty 
greasy  axles,  like  a  tarry  nig^ei  ;  not  ho,  indeed,  ho  d 
stick  you  up  with  it. 

''  The  last  time  I  came  by  here,  it  was  a  little  brt 
arter  davli<>ht  down,  rainin'  cats  and  do^s,  and  as 
dark  as  Kg}pt;  so.  thinks  I,  I'll  jist  turn  in  here  for 
shelter  to  'Squire  Bill  JJIake's.  Well,  I  knocks 
iiway  at  the  front  door,  till  I  thought  I'd  a  split  it  in  ; 
but  arter  a  rappin'  awhile  to  no  purpose,  and  iindin' 
no  one  come,  I  gropes  my  way  roiind  to  the  back 
door,  and  opens  it,  and  feelin'  all  along  the  partition 
for  the  latch  of  tne  keepin'  room,  without  finding  it, 
I  knocks  ag'in,  when  some  one  from  inside  cal!>  out 
'Walk!'  Thinks  I,  I  don't  clcv.'rjy  know  whether 
that  indicates  'walk  in,  or  'walk  out;'  its  plaguy 
short  uietre,  that's  a  fact ;  but  I'll  soe  anyhctw. 
Well,  arter  gropin'  about  awhile,  at  !ast  I  got  hold 
of  the  string  and  lifted  the  latch  and  walked  in,  and 


If 


hold 


FIRE  IN   rut:  DAIRY. 


225 


there  sot  old  ^larm  Fjlako,  close  into  one  corner  of 
the  ch'iiibley  firephice,  a  seesawin'  in  :i  rocUin*  chair, 
ftnd  a  lialf  grown  black  liousc-helj),  halt'  asleep  in 
t'other  corner,  a  scrondgin'  np  over  the  embers. 
'Who  be  you?'  said  iMarin  lilake,  *  for  1  can't  see 
you.'  *  A  stranger,'  said  I.  '  Beck  ! '  says  she,  speak- 
in'  to  the  bhick  heifer  in  the  corner,  '  lieck ! '  says  she 
ag'in,  raisin'  her  voice,  '  I  beheve  you  are  as  def  as  a 
post ;  get  up  this  minit  and  stir  the  coals,  till  I  see 
tlic  man.'  Arter  the  coals  were  stirred  into  a  blaze, 
the  old  lady  surveyed  me  from  head  to  foot ;  then 
she  axed  me  my  name,  and  where  I  came  from, 
where  I  was  agoin',  and  what  my  business  was.  '  I 
guess,'  said  she,  '>ou  must  be  reasonable  wet;  sit  to 
the  fire  and  dry  yourself,  or  mayhap  your  health  may 
be  endamnified  p'r'aps.' 

"  So  I  sot  down,  and  we  soon  got  pretty  consider- 
ably well  acquainted,  and  quite  sociable  like,  and  her 
tongue,  when  it  fairly  waked  up,  began  to  run  like  a 
mill-race  when  the  gate's  up.  I  hadn't  boon  talkin' 
lonor,  'fore  I  well  nioh  lost  sio^ht  of  her  altogether 
ao-'in,  for  little  Beck  beiian  to  flourish  about  her 
broom,  ri<>ht  and  left  in  ij^reat  style,  a  clearin'  np.  and 
fihe  did  raise  such  an  awful  thick  cloud  o'  dust,  I 
didn't  know  if  I  should  ever  see  y,v  breathe  either 
a"'in.  Well,  when  all  was  sot  to  rights  and  the  Hre 
made  \ip,  the  old  lady  began  to  apologize  for  bavin' 
no  candles  ;  she  said  she'd  had  a  gran. I  tea-party  the 
night  afore,  and  used  them  all  up.  and  a  whole  siglit 
of  vittles  too;  the  old  m;ni  Ivuln't  been  wt'll  since 
]5 


■tv 


226 


THE   CLOCKMAKI'n. 


and  had  gone  to  bed  airly.  '  But,'  siiys  she,  ♦  T  do 
wish  with  all  my  heart  you  had  a  come  last  nij^ht,  for 
we  had  a  most  a  special  supper,  —  puiikin  pies  and 
doughnuts,  and  apple-sarce,  and  a  roast  goose  stuflTed 
with  Indian  puddin',  and  a  [)ig's  harslet  stewed  in 
molasses  and  onions,  and  I  d(m't  know  what  all  ;  and 
the  fore  part  of  to-day  folks  called  to  finish.  I 
actilly  have  nothin'  left  to  set  afore  you  ;  for  it  was 
none  o'  your  skim-milk  parties,  but  superfine  upper- 
crust,  real  jam,  and  we  made  clean  work  of  it.  But 
I'll  make  some  tea,  anyhow,  for  you,  and  perhaps, 
after  that,*  said  she,  alterin'  of  her  tone,  'perhaps 
you'll  expound  the  Scriptures,  for  it's  one  while 
since  I've  heerd  theni  laid  open  powerfully.  I  hain't 
been  fairly  lifted  up  since  that  good  man  Judas 
Oglethrop  travelled  this  road.'  and  then  she  gave  a 
croan  and  hunu  down  her  head,  and  looked  corner- 
ways,  to  see  how  the  Innd  lay  thereabouts.  The  tea- 
kettle was  accordin<j^ly  put  on,  and  some  lard  fried 
into  oil,  and  poured  into  a  tumbler;  which,  with  the 
aid  of  an  inch  of  cotton  wick,  served  as  a  makeshift 
for  a  candle. 

"  Well,  arter  tea  we  sot  and  chatted  awhile  about 
fashions,  and  markets,  and  sarmons,  and  scandal,  and 
all  sorts  o'  things :  und,  in  the  midst  of  it.  in  runs 
the  nigger  wench,  screamin'  out  at  the  tip  eend  of 
her  voice,  '  O  iMissus  !  missus  !  there's  Fire  in  the 
dairy,  Fire  in  the  dairy!'  'I'll  give  it  to  you  for 
that,'  said  the  old  lady,  '  I'll  give  it  you  for  that,  you 
good-for-nothin'  hussy  ;  that's  all  your  carelessness 


FIRE  IN  THE  DAIRY. 


227 


I 


go  and  put  it  out  this  niinit;  liow  on  airth  did  it  Ljfit 
there?  my  nij^^ht's  milk  Ljone,  I  dure  suy  ;  rim  this 
miiiit  and  put  it  out,  and  save  the  milii.'  I  am 
dreadful  afeard  of  fire,  I  always  was  from  a  boy,  and 
seein'  the  poor  foolish  critter  seize  a  broom  in  her 
fright,  I  ups  with  the  tea-kettle  and  follows  lier  ;  and 
nway  we  clipped  thnnigh  the  entry,  she  callin'  ou*^^ 
'  IMind  the  cellar  door  on  the  ricrht. ! '  '  Take  kear  of 
the  close-horse  on  the  left ! '  and  so  on,  but  as  I 
couldn't  see  nothin',  I  kept  riijht  straii^ht  ahead.  At 
hist  mv  foot  kotched  in  somethin'  or  another,  that 
pitched  me  somewhat  less  than  a  rod  or  so,  right 
ag'in  the  poor  black  critter,  and  away  we  went  heels 
over  head.  I  heerd  a  splash  and  a  groan,  ;ind  I 
smelt  somethin'  plaguy  sour,  but  I  couldn't  see 
nothin' ;  at  last  I  got  hold  of  her  and  lifted  her  up, 
for  she  didn't  scream,  but  made  a  strange  kind  of 
chokin'  noise,  and  by  this  time  up  came  Marm  Blake 
with  a  light.  If  poor  Heck  didn't  let  go  then  in 
airnest,  and  sing  out  for  dear  life,  it's  a  pity,  for  she 
had  cone  head  first  into  \\\ct  swill-tub,  and  the  tea- 
kettle  had  scalded  her  feet.  She  kept  a  dancin 
right  up  and  down,  like  one  ravin'  distracted  mad, 
and  boo-hoo'd  like  anything,  clawin'  away  at  her 
head  the  whole  time,  to  clear  away  the  stuff  that 
stuck  to  her  wool. 

"  I  held  in  as  long  as  I  could,  till  I  thought  I 
should  have  busted,  for  no  soul  (•o)dd  helj)  a  larfin', 
^nd  at  last  I  haw-liau(Ml  right  out.  '  You  good-for- 
nothin'  stupid  slut,  you,'  ^  lid  the  old   lady  to  poor 


228 


THE   CLOCKMAKER, 


Heck,  '  it  sarvos  you  riglit,  you  had  no  business  to 
leave  it  tliere  —  I'll  pay  you.'  '  liut,' said  I,  inter- 
ferin'  for  tlie  unfortunate  critter,  *<r(K)d  gracious, 
inarm!  you  forget  the  fire.*  'No  I  dou't,' said  she, 
'  I  see  hiui,*  and  sei/in'  the  broom  that  had  fallen 
from  the  nigger's  hand,  she  exclaimed,  '  I  see  hiui, 
the  nasty  varmint,'  and  b«!gan  to  belabor  most  on- 
marcifully  a  poor  half-starved  cur  that  the  noise  had 
attracted  to  the  entry.  Til  teach  you,'  said  she,  '  to 
drink  milk  ;  I'll  larn  you  to  steal  into  the  dairy,'  and 
the  besot  critter  joined  chorus  with  lieck,  and  they 
both  yelled  together,  till  thev  fairlv  made  the  house 
ring  ag'in.  Presentlv  old  'Squire  lilake  popped  his 
head  out  of  a  door,  and  rubbin'  his  eyes,  half  asleep 
and  half  awake,  said,  '  What  the  devil's  to  pay  now, 
wife  ?'  '  Why  nothin','  says  she,  '  only,  Fires  in  the 
dairy,  and  Heck's  in  the  swill-tub,  that's  all.* 
'  Well,  don't  make  such  a  touse,  then,'  said  he,  '  if 
that's  all,'  and  he  shot  tu  the  door  and  went  to  bed 
ag'in.  AV^hen  we  returned  to  the  keepin'  room,  the 
old  ladv  told  me  that  tiiey  alvvavs  had  had  a  doj^ 
called  '  Fire '  ever  since  her  grandfather,  IMajor 
Donald  Eraser's  time,  'and  what  was  very  odd,'  says 
she,  '  every  one  on  'em  would  drink  milk  if  he  had  a 
chance.' 

"  By  this  time  the  shower  was  over,  and  the  moon 
shinin'  so  brioht  and  clear  that  I  thouidit  I'd  better 
be  up  and  stirrin',  and  artcr  slippin'  a  few  cents  into 
the  poor  nigger  wench's  hand,  I  took  leave  of  the 
grand  folks  in  the  big  house.     Now,  'Squire,  among 


ness  to 
I,  iiiter- 
riu'ious, 
lid  she, 
:l  fallen 
ie  hill), 
ost  on- 
iso  lijid 
ilie,  '  to 
ry,'  and 
[id  they 
2  house 
ped  his 
'  asleep 
iiy  now, 
in  the 
;    all.' 


r. 


lie, 


if 


to  bed 

)m,  the 

a  do2 

Major 

says 

had  a 


FIIiK  IN   rilE  DAIRY, 


229 


fchese  niiddlin'  sized  fiirniers  voii  in:iv  lav  this  down 
as  a  rul(! :    The  biyjcr  the  house  the  /"////''/  ihr  /'n,s/s  he    , 
ihttt's  in  it* 

'*  Hut  howsoinever,  I  ni'vcr  cill  to  iiiiiid  tli:it  'ere 
go  in  the  bijj;  house  up  to  the  rii;hl,  ihal  1  ilun't 
•nicker  when  1  think  of  '  Fire  in  the  dairy.'  " 


^v* 

%i^^ 


moon 

better 

ts  into 

of  the 

among 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


A   BODY    WITHOUT    A    HKAD. 


Ml' 


Hliiii 


'pi 


"  I  ALi.OT  vou  !);id  oucjbt  to  visit  our  jrreat  conn- 
try,  'Squire,"  said  the  Clock  maker,  "  afore  you  quit 
for  good  aud  all,  I  calculate  you  dou't  understand 
us.  The  most  splendid  JLcation  atvveen  the  poles  is 
the  United  States,  and  the  first  man  dive  is  Giueral 
Jjickson,  the  hero  of  the  age,  him  that's  skeered  the 
British  out  of  their  seven  senses.  Tlien  tlu^re's  the 
great  Daniel  AVebster ;  it's  generally  allowed  he's 
the  greatest  orator  on  the  face  of  the  airth,  by  a  long 
chalk  ;  and  Mi.  Vaii  Buren,and  IMr.  Clay,  and  Amos 
Kindle,  and  Judge  White,  and  a  whole  raft  of  states- 
men, up  to  everytiiing  and  all  manner  (f  politics ; 
there  ain't  the  beat  of  'e.n  to  be  found  anywhere. 
If  Tou  was  to  hea.'  'em  I  consait  vou'd  hear  ijeuuine 
pure  English  for  r»nce,  anyhow  ;  for  it's  generally 
allowed  we  spc^k  English  better  than  the  British. 
They  all  know  me  to  be  an  American  citizen  here, 
by  my  talk,  for  we  speak  it  coinplete  in  New  Eng- 
land. 

'*  Yes,  if  you  want  to  see  a  free  people — them  that 
makes  their  o'vn   laws,  aecordin'  to  their  own    no- 


t  coun- 

3u  quit 

erstaud 

poles  is 

mineral 

red  tlie 

re's  the 

!d    lie's 

a  long 

Amos 

states- 

)l!tics ; 

where. 

emiine 

nerally 

iritish. 

here, 

III  that 
ti    no- 


A   BODY  WITHOUT  A    IlKAU 


'S6i 


tions  —  go  to  the  States.  Indeed,  if  you  enn  fault 
them  at  all,  they  aie  a  little  orain  too  free.  Our 
folks  have  their  head  a  tritle  too  umch,  somrtinies. 
partieularin  elections,  both  in  freedom  of  speech  and 
freedom  of  press.  One  hadn't  oii'dit  to  blait  riuht 
out  always  all  that  comes  uppermost.  A  horse 
that's  too  free  frets  himself  and  his  rider  too,  and 
both  on  'em  lose  flesh  in  the  lonu  run.  I'd  e'ena- 
most  as  lives  use  the  wldp  sometimes,  as  to  be  for 
everlastinly  a  pullin'  at  the  rein.  One's  arm  gets 
plaguy  tired,  that's  a  fact.  I  often  think  of  a  lesson 
I  larnt  Jehiel  (^uirk  once,  for  lettin'  his  tongue  out- 
run his  good  manners. 

"  I  was  down  to  Rhode  Island  one  summer,  to  larn 
gildin'  and  bronzin',  so  as  to  give  the  finishin'  touch 
to  my  clocks.  Well,  the  folks  elected  me  a  hog- 
reeve,  jist  to  poke  fun  at  me,  and  Mr.  Ji'hiel,a  bean- 
pole of  a  lawyer,  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  So  one 
day,  up  to  Town  Hall,  where  there  was  an  oration  to 
be  delivered  on  our  Iiulej)endence,  jist  afore  the  ora- 
tor conunencerl.  in  rims  .I(;lurl  in  a  most  all-fiied 
hurrv  ;  antl  savs  he,  '  I  wonder,'  stivs  he,  '  if  there's 
arv  a  ho^^-reeve  here?  because  if  there  be  I  reciuiie  a 
tiu'n  of  his  olhce.'  And  then,  said  he,  a  lookin'  up  to 
nie,  and  eallin'  out  at  the  tip  eend  of  his  voice.  '  Mr. 
Ilog-reeve  Slick,'  says  he,  '  here's  a  jol)  out  here  for 
you.'  U'olks  snickered  a  good  deal,  and  1  felt  my 
^puidv  a  risin*  like  half  flood,  that's  n  fact:  but  I  bit 
ill  my  breath,  and  spoke  quite  cool.  'Possible?' 
iays  I  ;  '  well,  duty,   I  do    siipp<»se,  n\ust    be  done, 


232 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


Mm- 


it 


thoimh  it  ain't  the  most  asrreeable  in  the  world.  I've 
been  a  thinUin','  says  I,  '  that  I  would  be  liable  to  a 
fine  of  fiftv  cents  for  sufferin'  a  ho<i  to  run  at  larjre, 
and  as  you  are  the  bij^gest  one,  I  presume,  in  all 
Rhode  Island,  I'll  jist  begin  by  ringin'  your  nose,  to 
prevent  you  for  the  futur'  from  pokin'  your  snout 
where  you  hadn't  ought  to;'  and  I  seized  him  by 
the  nose  and  nearly  wrung  it  off.  "Well,  you  never 
lieerd  such  a  shoutin'  and  clappin'  of  hands,  and 
cheerin',  in  your  life ;  they  haw-hawed  like  thunder. 
Says  I,  '  Jehiel  Quirk,  that  was  a  superb  joke  of 
your'n ;  how  you  made  the  folks  larf,  didn't  you? 
You  are  e'enamost  the  wittiest  critter  I  ever  seed. 
I  guess  you'll  mind  your  parts  o'  speech,  and  study 
the  accidence  ag'in  afore  you  let  your  clapper  run 
arter  that  fashion,  won't  you  ?  '  " 

"I  thought,"  said  I,  "  that  among  you  republicans, 
there  were  no  <;radations  of  rank  or  office,  and  that 
all  were  equal,  the  Hog- reeve  and  ihe  Governor,  the 
Jud<ye  and  the  Crier,  tiie  master  and  his  servant; 
and  although  from  the  nature  of  things,  more  power 
might  be  entrusted  to  one  thati  the  other,  yet  that 
the  rank  of  all  was  precisely  the  same." 

"Well,"  said  he, ''it  is  so  in  theory,  but  not  al- 
ways in  practice  ;  and  when  we  do  })rac//.s'e  it,  it 
Beems  to  go  a  little  agin  the  grain,  as  if  it  warn't 
quite  right  neither.  When  I  was  last  to  Baltimore 
there  was  a  court  there,  and  Chief  Justice  Marshall 
was  detailed  there  for  duty.  Well,  with  us  in  New 
Knjrland.  the  Siieriti' attends  the  Judge  to  court,  and 


i. : 


A    BODY  WITHOUT   A    HEAD. 


288 


d.  I've 

ble  to  a 
it  large, 

e,  in  all 
nose,  to 
ir  snout 
him  by 
•u  never 
ds,  and 
lumder. 
joke  of 
t't  you? 
ir  seed, 
id  study 
per  run 

blicans, 
nd  that 
tior,  the 
ervant; 
i  power 
et  that 

not  al- 
e  it,  it 
warn't 
Itiinore 
^irshall 
in  New 
irt,  and 


Bays  I  to  the  Sheriff,  '  Why  don't  von  escort  that  'ere 
venerable  old  Jiidi;e  to  the  Stale  House?  lie's  a 
credit  to  our  nation,  that  man  ;  he's  aclilly  the  first 
pothook  on  tlie  crane  ;  the  whole  weiglit  is  on  him; 
if  it  warn't  lor  him  the  hit  would  be  iu  the  lire  in  no 
time.  I  wonder  you  don't  show  iiiin  that  respect  — 
it  wouldn't  hurt  you  one  morsel,  1  guess.'  Says  he, 
quite  miffy  like,  '  Don't  he  know  the  way  to  court 
as  well  as  I  do  ?  If  1  thought  he  didn't,  I'd  send  one 
of  my  niggers  to  show  liim  the  road.  I  wonder  who 
was  his  lackey  last  year,  that  he  wants  me  to  be 
his'n  this  time  ?  It  don't  convene  to  one  of  our  free 
and  enlightened  citizens  to  tag  arter  any  man,  that's 
a  fact ;  it's  too  Euglish,  and  too  foreign  for  our  glo- 
rious institutions,  lie's  bound  by  law  to  be  there  at 
ten  o'clock,  and  so  be  I,  and  we  botii  know  the  way 
there  I  reckon.' 

"  I  told  the  story  to  our  minister,  ^Ir.  Hopewell 
(and  he  has  some  odd  notions  about  him,  that  man, 
though  he  don't  always  let  out  what  he  thinks). 
Says  he, '  Sam,  that  was  in  bad  taste  '  (a  great  phrase 
of  the  old  gentleman's,  that),  'in  bad  taste,  Sam. 
That  'ere  sherilf  was  a  goncy  ;  don't  .^ut  your  cloih 
arter  his  pattern,  or  your  garment  won't  btcoinc  you. 
I  tell  you.  We  are  too  enlighrnncd  to  worshij)  our 
fellow  citizens  as  the  ancients  did.  but  we  ought  to 
pay  great  respect  to  vartue  and  exalted  talents  in 
this  life,  and,  arter  their  dcatn,  there  should  be  stat- 
ues of  eminent  men  placed  in  our  national  tem[)lc.s 
^or  the  veneration  of  arter  ages,  and   public  ceremo 


11 


281 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


■ ) 


m 


nies  performed  annually  to  their  honor.  Arter  all, 
Sam/  said  he  (and  he  made  a  considerable  of  a  long 
pause,  as  if  he  was  dubersome  whether  he  ought  to 
speak  out  or  not),  'arter  all,  Sam,'  said  he,  'atween 
ourselves  (but  you  nmst  not  let  on  I  said  so,  for  tiie 
fullness  of  time  hain't  yet  come),  half  a  yard  of  blue 
ribbon  is  a  plaguy  cheap  way  of  rewardin'  merit,  as 
the  English  do  ;  and,  although  we  larf  at  'em  (for 
folks  always  will  larf  at  wiiat  they  hain't  got,  and 
never  can  get),  yet  titles  ain't  bad  things  as  objects 
of  ambition,  are  they  ? '  Then  tappin'  me  on  the 
shoulder,  and  lookin'  up  and  smilin',  as  he  always 
did  when  he  was  pleased  with  an  idee,  '  Sir  Samuel 
Slick  would  not  sound  bad,  I  guess,  would  it  Sam  ? ' 
*"  When  I  look  at  the  English  House  of  Lords,' 
said  he,  '  and  see  so  much  laming,  piety,  talent, 
honor,  vartue,  and  refinenu'nt  collected  together,  I 
ax  myself  this  here  question  :  Can  a  system  which 
produces  and  sustains  such  a  body  of  men  as  the 
world  never  saw  before  and  never  will  see  a^'in,  be 
defective?  Well,  I  answer  myself,  perhaps  it  is,  for 
all  human  institutitnis  are  so,  but  I  guess  it's  e'ena- 
bout  the  best  arti-r  all.  It  wouldn't  do  here  now, 
Sam,  nor  perhaps  for  a  century  to  come ;  but  it  will 
come  sooner  or  later  with  some  variations.  Now  the 
Newtown  pippin,  when  transplanted  to  England, 
don't  produce  snch  fruit  as  it  does  in  Long  Island, 
and  Englisli  fruits  don't  presnrve  their  flavor  iiere 
neitiier ;  allowance  must  be  made  for  dillerence  of 
toil  and  climate'  (O  Lord  I  thinks  I,  if  he  turns  intc 


A    bOljY   WITHOUT  A    HEAD. 


irter  all, 
[)f  a  U)U0 

Ollgllt   to 

*  utweeii 
>,  for  the 
of  blue 
no  lit,  as 
em   (for 
jot,  and 
objects 
on  the 
al  ways 
Sp.muel 
Sam  ? ' 
Lords,* 
talent, 
ither,  I 
which 
as  the 
g'in,  be 
.  is,  for 
i  e'ena- 
e  now, 
it  will 
ow  the 
ij^land, 
Island, 
r  here 
nee  of 
is  iiitc 


his  orchard,  I'm  done  for  ;  I'll  have  to  give  him  the 
dodge  somehow  or  anoLhur,  through  some  hole  in 
the  fence,  that's  a  fact;  but  he  passed  on  that  time). 
'  So  it  is,'  said  he,  •  witli  constitiilions  ;  our'n  will 
gradually  approximate  to  their'n,  and  their'n  to  our'n. 
As  they  lose  their  strength  of  executive,  they  will 
varge  to  r('[)ublieanism,  and  as  we  invigorate  the 
form  of  government  (as  we  must  do,  or  go  to  the  old 
boy),  we  shall  tend  towards  a  monarchy.  If  this 
comes  on  gradually,  like  the  changes  in  the  human 
body,  by  the  slow  approach  of  old  age.  so  much  ihe 
better;  but  I  fear  we  shall  have  fevers  and  convul- 
sion-fits, and  colics,  and  an  everlastin'  gri[)in'  of  the 
intestines  first;  you  and  I  won't  live  to  see  it,  Sam, 
but  our  posteriors  will,  you  may  depend.' 

"I  don't  «>()  the  whoU?  Ii«iur' with  minister,"  said 
the  ClocUnjidxcr,  "  but  1  do  o[)ii;ionate  with  him  in 
part.  In  our  business  relations  we  l>elie  our  polit- 
ical principles;  we  s:iy  every  mnn  is  e(pial  in  the 
Union,  and  should  have  an  equal  vote  and  voice  in 
the  government;  but  in  our  Ijanks,  Railroad  Com- 
panies, Factory  Corporations,  and  so  on,  every  man's 
vote  is  regilated  by  his  share  and  j)roportion  of 
stock  ;  and  il'  it  warift  so.  no  man  would  Uikr.  hold 
on  these  things  at  all. 

''Xatur'  ordained  it  s(  :  a  father  of  a  funily  is 
head,  and  rules  supreme  in  hi>  household  ;  i;is  el.l- 
est  son  and  darter  are  like  iirsl  K  ficnants  under  iiun. 
ind  then  there  is  an  overseer  (ucr  the  niggers;  it 
K'ould   not  do  for  all   lo   be   equal   iln  it.     So  i'  is  in 


M  i 


236 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


%   ^ 


fi^ 


the  univarse,  it  is  ruled  by  one  Superior  Power ;  if 
all  the  nn'jols  had  a  voice  in  the  frovoruMient  J 
guess" — Here  I  fell  fa;>t  asleep;  I  had  been  nod- 
<\'n  g  for  some  time,  not  in  approbation  of  what  ho 
said,  but  in  heaviness  of  slumber,  for  I  had  never 
before  heard  him  so  prosy  since  1  first  overtook  him 
on  the  Colchester  road.  I  hate  politics  as  a  subject 
of  conversation ;  it  is  too  wide  a  field  for  chit-chat, 
and  too  often  ends  in  angry  discussion.  How  long 
he  continued  this  train  of  speculation  I  do  not  know, 
but,  judging  by  the  different  aspect  of  the  country,  I 
must  have  slept  an  hour. 

I  was  at  length  aroused  by  the  report  of  his  rifle, 
which  he  had  discharged  from  the  wa<ion.  The  last 
I  recollected  of  his  conversation  was,  1  think,  about 
American  anijels  havino-  no  voice  in  the  jjjovern- 
nient,  an  assertion  that  struck  my  drowsy  faculties 
as  not  strictly  true  ;  as  I  had  often  heard  tliat  the 
American  ladies  talked  frequently  and  warmly  on 
the  sul^ject  of  politics,  and  knew  that  one  of  them 
had  very  recently  the  credit  of  breuking  up  General 
Jackson's  cabinet.  When  I.  awoke,  the  first  1  heard 
was,  '•  AVell  !  I  declare,  if  that  ain't  an  amazin'  fine 
shot,  too,  considerin'  how  the  critter  was  a  runnin* 
the  whole  blessed  lime  ;  if  1  hain't  cut  her  head  off 
witli  a  ball,  jist  below  the  throat,  that's  a  fact. 
There's  no  mistake  in  a  good  Kentucky  rifle,  I  tell 
you." 

"Whose  head?"  said  I,  in  great  alarm,  *' whose 
bead,  Mr.  Slick  ?  for  Heaven's  sake  what  have  you. 


)wer ;  if 
inient  J 
en  nod- 
rthat  ho 
d  never 
)()k  hini 
subject 
liit-cliat, 
ow  long 
t  know, 
Lin  try,  I 

lis  rifle, 
rhe  last 
:,  about 
^overn- 
iculties 
liat  tbe 
inly  on 
f  tbem 
Jeiieral 
[  beard 
in'  fine 
•iinnin' 
3ad  off 
a   fact. 
,  I  tell 

wbose 
ve  yoL*. 


A    BODY  WITHOUT  A   HEAD. 


287 


done?"  rfor  I  had  been  drcaniinu  of  those  angelic 
politicians,  the  American  hidies). 

"  Why  that  'ere  hen-partri(l^(i's  head,  to  be  sure," 
said  he;  "  don't  you  see  how  spcciid  wondcilul  wise 
it  looks,  a  flutterin'  about  arter  ils  head  ?" 

"  True,"  said  1,  rubbing  n>y  eyes,  and  opening 
them  in  time  to  see  the  last  muscular  spasnis  of  tlio 
decapitated  body;  ''true,  ^Ir.  Slick,  it  is  a  h!ii'{>y 
iliustiation  of  our  previous  conversation  —  a  Oou'y 
without  a  head'^ 


r7y\ 


hi .' 


CITIPTFR  XXX. 


A   TALF,      !F    il!    "KERS    HILL. 

Mr.  Slick,  like  all  jiis  couiiL-ymen  whom  I  have 
seon,  felt  that  his  own  existence  was  involved  in  that 
of  the  Constitntion  of  the  United  States,  and  that  it 
was  his  dnty  to  nphold  it  upon  all  occasions.  He 
affected  to  consider  its  government  and  its  institu- 
tions as  perfect,  and  if  any  doubt  was  su^y^ested  as 
to  the  stal)iritv  or  character  of  eitiier,  would  make 
the  common  reply  of  all  Americans,  "  I  guess  you 
don't  understand  us,"  or  else  enter  into  a  labored 
defense.  Wiien  left,  however, to  the  frf^e  expression 
of  his  own  tliou<>hts,  he  would  often  iiive  utterance 
to  those  api)rehensions  which  most  men  feel  \n  the 
event  of  an  experiment  not  yet  faiily  tried,  and  which 
has  in  many  i)arts  evidently  disappointed  the  san- 
guine hopes  of  its  friends.  IJut,  even  on  these  oc- 
vasions,  when  his  vigilance  seemed  to  slumber,  he 
would  generally  cover  them,  by  giving  them  as  the 
remarks  of  others,  or  conceulinir  ihem  in  a  tale.  It 
was  this  habit  that  i-ave  his  discourse  rather  the  at)- 
pearance  of  thinking  aloud  tlian  a  connected  conver 
bation. 


A    J  ALE   OF  BUNKER'S  UlLL. 


2:39 


I  I  have 

!  in  that 
1  that  it 
IS.  He 
institii- 
'stecl  as 
1  make 
?ss  vou 

V 

labored 
ressioii 
te  ranee 
I  in  tlie 
I  which 
le  san- 
ose  oc- 
)er,  he 
as  the 
le.  It 
iu;  aj)- 
onver 


*'  We  are  a  great  nation,  'Squire,"  he  said,  "  that's 
ti?r'Lain  ;  but  I'm  afe^.d  we  didn't  aito'H'tlier  start 
riulit.  It's  in  [i)Iitics  as  in  racui',  evervthinLj  de. 
p  uds  upon  .1  fair  start.  If  yoi.  are  off  too  quick,  you 
h,.  ve  to  pull  up  and  turn  buck  a^'in,  and  your  beast 
gets  out  of  v'in^'  and  is  bullied;  and  if  you  lose  in 
the  start  you  hain't  got  a  lair  chance  arterwards,  and 
are  plaguy  apt  to  be  jockeyed  in  tiie  course.  When 
we  set  up  housekeepin',  as  it  were,  for  ourselves,  we 
hated  our  stepmother,  Old  England,  so  dreadful  bad, 
we  wouldn't  foller  any  of  her  ways  of  UKinagin'  at  al'. 
but  made  new  receij)ts  for  ourselves.  Well,  se 
missed  it  in  many  things  most  consumedly,  sou>eho\v 
or  another.  Did  you  ever  see,"  said  he,  "  a  coti':"e- 
gation  split  right  in  two  by  a  quarrel,  and  one  par;, 
go  off  and  set  up  for  themselves  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorrv  to  sav,"  said  I,  "  that  1  have  seen 
some  melancholy  instances  of  the  kind." 

"  Well,  they  shoot  ahead,  or  dr(»|>  astern,  as  the 
case  may  be,  but  they  soon  get  on  another  tack,  and 
leave  the  old  siiip  clean  out  of  sight.  W'len  folks 
once  take  to  em"gratiu'  in  religion  in  this  way.  they 
never  know  where  to  bide.  First  they  try  one  loca- 
tion, and  then  they  try  another;  some  settle  here, 
and  some  improve  there,  l)ut  they  dou't  hitch  their 
horses  together  long.  Somesiines  they  complain 
thev  hitre  fu»  littlr  water,  at  otle-r  times  that  they 
have  too  mitvli  ;  ihev  aie'  never  satisfied,  and.  wher- 
ever  these  sei)aratists  go.  tlu'v  onseltle  others  as  bad 
us    themselves.      J  n^rcr   look    on   a   dcsurttr  us   ort/ 


<p'(^>i 


t  si. 


ni\ cs. 


240 


THE   CLOCKMAKEli. 


il 


il 


*' My  poor  futlier  used  to  siiy,  *  Sacii,  mind  vvliat  I 
tell  you:  if  a  uiau  dt)irt  a^ree  in  all  partit  ulars  with 
Ills  church,  and  can't  go  the  whole  hog  with  'em,  he 
ain't  justified  on  that  account,  nohow,  to  separate 
froui  them,  for,  Sam,  '•  Schism  is  a  sin  in  the  ci/e  of 
Goii"  'JMie  whole  Christian  world,'  he  would  say, 
'is  divided  iulo  two  iircnt  families,  the  Catholic  and 
Protestant.  Well,  the  Catholic  is  a  united  family,  a 
happy  family,  and  a  strong  family,  all  governed  hy 
one  head ;  and  Sam,  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs,  that 
'ere  family  will  grub  out  t'other  one,  stalU,  branch, 
and  root;  it  won't  so  much  as  leave  the  seed  of  it  in 
the  ground,  to  grow  by  chance  as  a  natural  curios- 
ity. Now  the  Protestant  family  is  like  a  bundle  of 
refuse  shingles,  when  withed  up  together  (which  it 
never  was  and  never  will  be  to  all  etarnity),no  great 
of  a  bundle  arter  all  ;  you  might  take  it  up  under 
one  arm,  and  walk  off  with  it  without  winkin'.  lUit, 
when  all  lyin'  loose  as  it  always  is,  jist  look  at  it,  and 
see  what  a  sight  it  is  :  all  blowin'  about  by  every 
wind  of  doctrine,  some  away  up  e'enamost  out  of 
sight,  others  rollin'  over  and  over  in  the  dirt,  some 
split  to  pieces,  and  others  so  warped  by  the  wenther 
and  cracked  bv  the  sun  —  no  two  of  "em  will  lie  so 
as  to  make  a  close  jint.  They  are  all  divided  into 
sects,  railin',  quarrelin',  separatin',  and  agreein'  in 
nothing'  but  hatin'  each  other.  It  is  awful  to  think 
on.  T'other  family  will  some  day  or  other  gather 
them  all  up,  put  them  into  a  bundle  and  bind  tiuin 
up  tight,  and  condemn   'em  as  fit  for   nolhin'  under 


A    TALK   OF  DUyKICR'S  II ILL. 


241 


1(1  what  I 
liars  with 
h  'cm,  he 

separate 
Ite  ej/e  of 
)iilcl  say, 
lolic  and 
iainilv,  a 
'rued  by 
,^i;s,  that 

branch, 
I  of  it  in 

curios- 
indle  of 
which  it 
IK)  o^reat 
p  under 
'.  liut, 
t  it,  and 
y  every 

out  of 
t,  some 
^veather 
1  lie  so 
ed  into 
•ein'  in 
)  think 

<j[alher 
1   tlicni 

under 


the  sun,  hut  the  (ire.  Now  he  who  splits  one  of 
these  here  seets  by  schism,  or  he  who  iireacluv'j 
schism,  commils  a  grievous  sin.  and  Sun.  if  you  vally 
your  own  peace  of  mind,  have  m»tliin'  to  ilo  willi 
such  folks. 

"'It's  pretty  much  the  same  in  iiolitics.  I  ain'l 
quite  clear  in  my  conscience,  Sam,  about  our  jjhjri- 
ous  Revolution.  If  that  'ere  blood  was  shed  justly 
in  the  rebellion,  then  it  was  the  Lord's  doin'.  but  if 
unlawfully,  how  am  I  to  answer  for  uiv  sliare  in  it? 
I  was  at  Hunker's  Hill  (tlie  most  splendid  batile  it's 
generally  allowed  that  ever  wns  fought) ;  what  ettect 
my  shots  had,  1  can't  tell,  and  I  am  glad  I  can't,  all 
except  one,  Sam,  and  t'^.at  shot' — Hen?  tin'  old 
gentleman  becn»;ie  dreadful  agitated,  he  siiook  like 
an  a<^ue  fit,  and  he  walked  up  and  (i(»wu  tint  room, 
and  wrung  his  hands,  and  groaned  l)itterly.  '1  have 
wraslled  with  the  Lord,  Sam,  and  have  prayed  to 
Him  to  enlighten  me  on  that  pint,  and  to  wasii  out 
the  stain  of  that  'ere  blood  from  ujy  hands.  I  never 
told  you  that  'ere  story,  nor  your  mother,  neither,  for 
she  could  not  stand  it,  poor  critter,  she's  kinder  nur- 
vous. 

"'Well,  Doctor  Warren  (the  first  soldier  of  his 
a"e,  though  he  never  fought  afore)  commanded  us 
all  to  resarve  our  fire  till  the  IJritish  came  wilhin 
pint-blaid^  shot,  and  we  could  cleverly  see  the  whites 
of  their  eves,  and  we  did  so  ;  and  we  mowed  them 
down  like  grass,  and  we  repeated  our  tire  with  awful 
\ffect.  I  was  among  the  last  that  remained  behind 
I'i 


N. 


242 


THE   C/.OCKMAK/CR. 


f! 


the  breastwork,  for  most  on  Vm,  inter  the  second 
shot,  cut  and  run  full  split.  'I'he  Hiitisli  were  cl»»sp 
to  us ;  and  a>i  oilicer,  witli  his  sword  drawn,  was 
leadini;  on  his  men,  and  eneourajiin'  them  to  the 
charge.  I  could  see  Ids  features ;  he  was  a  rael 
haudsum  man  :  I  can  see  liim  now  with  his  white 
brceclies  and  black  <^aiters,  and  red  coat,  and  three- 
cornered  cocked  hat,  as  plain  as  if  it  was  yesterday 
instead  of  the  year  'TT).  Well,  I  took  a  steady  aim 
at  him,  and  fired.  Me  didn't  move  for  a  space,  and 
I  thought  I  iiad  missed  him,  when  all  of  a  sudd(;n  he 
sprung  right  straight  up  on  eend,  his  sword  slipped 
through  his  hands  up  to  the  pint,  and  then  he  fell 
flat  on  his  face  atop  of  the  blade,  and  it  came  straight 
out  throuiih  his  back.  He  was  fairlv  skivered.  I 
never  seed  anvthinix  so  awful  since  I  was  raised;  I 
actilly  screamed  out  with  horror  ;  and  I  threw  away 
my  gun  and  joined  them  that  were  retreatin'  over 
the  neck  to  Charlcstown.  Sam,  that  'ere  British 
officer,  If  our  rebellion  was  onjust  or  onlawful,  wa^ 
murdered,  that's  a  fact ;  and  the  idee,  now  I  au' 
growin'  old,  haunts  me  day  and  night.  Sometimes  1 
begin  with  the  Stamp  Act,  and  1  go  over  all  or.r 
grievances,  one  by  one,  and  say.  Ain't  they  a  suffi- 
cient justification  ?  Well,  it  makes  a  long  list,  and  I 
get  kinder  satisfied,  and  it  appears  as  clear  as  any- 
thing. But  sometimes  there  come  doubts  in  my 
mind,  jist  like  a  guest  that's  not  invited  or  not  ex- 
pected, and  takes  you  at  a  short  like,  and  I  say 
Warn't  the    Stamp  Act    repealed,  and   concessicuis 


A    TALE   OF  bUNKKU'S  llllj,. 


242 


second 

r<'  close 
VII,  was 

to  the 

a  \"M'\ 
s  wliite 
1  three- 
stLMtlay 
(ly  aim 
ce,  and 
(1(M)  lie 
slipped 

>e  fell 
itraiiihi 
red.  J 
ised ;  I 
IV  away 
ii'  over 
IJrilish 
111,  wav 

I  air 
Limes  I 

ill    OCT 

a  siiffi- 
,  and  I 
s  aiiy- 
in  my 
lot  ex- 
I  say 
sssions 


made,  and  warn't  ofTcrs  sent  to  settle  all  fairly?  and 
J  ujet  tr()iii)ie(l  and  oncasv  a^'in.  And  tlieii  I  s;iv  to 
myselt',  says  I,  ()  ves,  hut  tliem  oinis  came  too  1  ite. 
I  do  nolhin'  now,  wlu-ii  I  am  alone,  but  arnia?  it  over 
and  over  a;:,^'in.  I  actilly  dream  on  that  man  in  inv 
sleep  sometimes,  and  lluMi  I  see  him  as  plain  as  if 
he  was  afore  me  ;  and  I  ^o  over  it  all  :ii^'in  till  I 
come  to  that  'ere  shot,  and  then  I  le:ip  ri!;ht  up  in 
bed  and  scream  like*  all  ven<^(?ance,  and  yonr  mother, 
poor  old  critter,  says,  ''Sam,"  says  she,  "what  on 
airth  ails  yon,  to  make  yon  act  so  like  Old  Scratch 
in  yonr  sleej)  ?  I  do  believe  there's  somethin'  or 
another  on  vonr  conscience."  And  \  sav,  "  PoUv, 
dear,  I  oiiess  we're  a  iioin'  to  have  rain,  for  that 
pla^ny  cute  ihenmatiz  has  seized  my  foot,  and  it 
does  antagonize  me  so  I  have  no  peace.  It  always 
does  so  when  it's  like  for  a  chan^H!."  "  Dear  heart," 
she  says  (the  poor  simple  critter),  "then  I  guess  I 
had  better  rub  it,  hadn't  I,  Sam?"  and  she  crawls 
out  of  bed  and  gets  her  red  flannel  petticoat,  and 
rubs  away  at  my  foot  ever  so  long.  O,  Sam,  if  she 
could  rub  it  out  of  my  heart  as  easy  as  slu;  thinks 
she  rubs  it  out  of  niy  foot,  I  should  he  in  peace,  that's 
a  fact. 

"'  What's  done,  Sam,  can't  be  helped,  there  is  no 
use  in  cryin'  o\(  '•  s])ilt  milk,  but  still  one  lan't  help 
a  thinkin'  on  it.  lUit  I  don't  love  schisms,  and  1 
don't  love  rebellion. 

"'Our  Revolution  has  made  us  grow  fluster  and 
jrrow  richer;   hut,  Sam,  wht>n  we  were  younger  an  J 


i|  i 


244 


THE   CL  0  CKMAKER. 


't» 


poorer,  we  were  more  pious  and  iroro  liappy.  We 
have  nothin'  fixed,  either  in  r('li^i()ll  or  politics. 
What  connection  tliere  on^ht  to  h(\  atween  Church 
ind  State,  I  am  not  availed,  but  some  there  otiLilit  to 
be,  as  sure  as  tiie  Lord  made  Moses.  Keli^ion, 
when  left  to  itself,  as  with  us,  i^rows  too  rank  and 
luxuriant.  Suckers  and  sprouts,  imd  intersectinv 
shoots,  and  superfluous  wood,  make  a  nice  shady 
♦  ree  to  look  at,  Lut  wheie's  the  fruit,  San*  ?  that's 
.he  question  —  where's  the  fruit  ?  No  ;  the  pride 
of  human  wisdom,  and  the  presumption  it  breeds 
will  ruinate  us.  Jefierson  was  an  infidel,  and  avowed 
it,  and  gloried  in  it,  and  called  it  the  enlightenment 
of  the  aue.  Cambridge  Colle<ie  is  Unitarian,  'cause 
it  looks  wise  to  doubt,  and  every  drumstick  of  a  boy 
ridicules  the  belief  of  his  forefathers.  If  our  country 
is  to  be  darkened  by  infidelity,  our  government  de- 
filed by  every  State,  and  every  State  ruled  by 
mobs-— then,  Sam,  the  blood  we  shed  in  our  Revo- 
lution will  be  atoned  for  in  the  blood  and  sutTerins 
of  our  fellow  citizens.  The  murders  of  thut  civil 
war  v.'ill  be  expiated  by  a  political  suicide  of  the 
State.* 

"  I  airi  r,omewhat  of  father's  opinion,"  said  the* 
Clockmaker,  "thouiiii  \  don't  iro  the  whole  n«iur'  with 
liim  ;  but  he  needii't  have  made  auch  an  everlastin' 
touse  about  fixin'  that  'ere  P>ritish  ofiicer's  flint  for 
oim,  for  he'd  a  died  of  himself  l)y  this  time,  I  do 
suppose,  if  he  had  a  missed  his  shot  at  him.  /^'r'aps 
we  mi;>ht  have  done  a  little  better,  and  p'r'aps  we 


ly.     We 

politics. 

Cluircli 

);i<j,"iit  to 

U'liojoii, 

mU  and 
rscctitiy 
i    shady 

?  that's 

e    pride 

brociis 

avowed 
tennient 
1,  'cause 
)f  a  boy 

country 
nent  de- 
nied by 
ir  Revo- 

iilTerin2 
Ktt  civil 
i  of  the 

;aid  the 
^ur'  with 
eriastin' 
flint  for 
ne,  I  do 
P'r'aps 
r'aps  we 


A   TALE   OF  BUNKER'S  UlLL. 


245 


mightn't,  by  sticki!)'  a  little  closer  to  the  old  Consti- 
tution. Hut  one  thin«,j  I  will  say:  I  tiniik,  aitcr  all. 
your  colony  governuKMil  is  aboul  as  happy  and  as 
good  a  one  as  I  Unow  on.  A  man's  lite  an-l  prop- 
erty are  well  jirolected  here  at  little  cost,  and  he  can 
fro  where  he  likes,  and  do  what  he  Hkes,  prosicU'd  he 
don't  trespass  on  his  neighbor. 

"  I  guess   that's  enough  iur  any  on  us,  now  aiu'i 

it?" 


CHAPTER  xxxr. 


GULLING    A   BLUENOSK. 


If 


"  I  ALLOT,"  stiid  Mr.  Slick,  "  tliat  the  Bluenoses 
are  the  most  gullible  folks  on  the  face  of  the  airth, — 
rigular  soft  horns,  that's  a  fact.  Politics  and  such 
stuff'  set  'em  a  gJipin',  like  children  in  a  chiml)ly 
corner  listenin'  to  ^ales  of  t;hosts,  .Salem  witches,  and 
Nova  Scotia  snowstorms;  and  while  they  stand 
starin'  and  yawpin',  all  eyes  and  niouth,  they  get 
their  pockets  j)icked  of  every  cent  that's  in  'em. 
One  candidate  chap  says,  '  Ftdler  citizens,  this  coun- 
try is  g'vin'  to  the  dogs  hand  over  iiand  ;  look  at  your 
rivers,  you  have  r  )  bridges;  at  your  wild  lands,  you 
have  no  roads ;  at  your  treasury,  you  liain't  got  a 
cent  in  it;  at  your  markets,  things  don't  fetch 
nothi'.r  ;  at  your  fish,  the  Yankees  ketch  'em  all. 
There's  nothin'  behind  you  but  sufferin',  around  you 
hut  poverty,  afore  you  but  slavery  and  death.  What's 
the  cause  of  this  unlieerd  of  awful  state  of  things, 
aye,  what's  the  cause  ?  Why,  Judges,  and  Danks, 
and  Lawyers,  and  great  folks,  have  swallered  all 
the  money.  They've  got  you  down,  and  they'll 
keep  you  down  to  all  etarnity,  you  and  your  ])osteri- 


i  I 


luenosea 
airth,— 
11(1  such 

'liiuihly 
hes,  and 
y    stand 

hey  oot 

in  'em. 
lis  coun- 
:  at  vour 
nds,  you 
I't  got  a 
I't  fetch 
'em  all. 
und  you 

AMiat's 

r  tilings, 

r>anks, 

ered  all 

I    they'll 

jiosteri- 


GULUyr.   A   BLUENOSE. 


247 


ors  arter  you.  Ri<e  up.  like  men  !  arouse  your- 
selves like  freemen,  and  elect  me  to  the  le«>i.shiiur', 
and  ril  lead  on  the  small  hui  patriotic  hand;  Til  jmt 
the  big  wigs  through  tlu^ir  facms,  Til  make  em  shake 
in  their  siioes,  I'll  knock  olT  your  chains  and  make 
you  free.'  Well,  th(!  goneys  fall  tu  and  elect  him, 
and  he  desarts  right  away,  wiih  balls,  litle,  powder, 
horn,  and  all.     JIc  prDniised  too  murh. 

"Then  comes  a  rael  good  man,  and  an  evedastin' 
fine  })reacher,  a  most  a  special  spiritual  man  ;  r(^ 
nounces  ihv.  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  preaches 
and  prays  day  and  night,  so  kind  to  the  poor,  and  so 
humble,  he  has  no  more  pride  than  a  babe,  and  so 
short-handed,  he's  no  butter  to  his  bn^ad  —  all  self- 
denial,  mortifvin'  the  flesh.  \\'e]!,  as  soon  as  he  can 
work  it,  he  marries  the  richest  gal  in  all  his  flock, 
and  then  his  bread  is  buttered  on  both  sides.  He 
proiiiiscd  too  much. 

"Then  comes  a  doctor,  and  a  prime  article  he  is, 
too.  Vl've  iiot,'  savs  he,  'a  screw  aui^er  emetic  and 
hot  crop,  and  if  I  can't  curt;  all  sorts  o'  things  in 
natur'  my  name  ain't  Quack.'  Well,  he  tmns  siom- 
ach  and  pocket  both  inside  out,  and  leaves  poor 
IMuenose  —  a  dead  man.      He  pro/niscf/  too  lUKch. 

"Then  comes  a  lawyer,  an  honest  lawver  too,  a 
rael  wonder  under  the  sun.  as  straight  as  a  shinnle 
in  all  his  dealins,  lie's  so  honest  he  can't  bear  to 
hear  a'll  of  other  lawyers  ;  h<>  writes  a^in  "em.  raves 
agin  'em,  votes  agin  'em;  they  are  all  rogues  but 
him.      He's  jist    the  man    to    take  a  case    in  hand, 


h  . 


248 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


II 


cause  he  will  see  justice  done.  Well,  he  wins  his 
case,  and  fobs  all  for  costs,  cause  he's  sworn  to  see 
justice  done  to  —  himself     He  promised  too  much. 

"Then  cojues  a  Yankee  clockniaker"  (and  here 
INIr.  Slick  looked  up  and  smiled),  "with  his  'soft 
sawder,'  and  "  human  natur','  and  he  sells  clocks 
warranted  to  run  from  July  to  Krarnity,  stoppages 
included,  and  I  must  sav  thcv  do  run  as  lonu  as  — 
as  loniif  as  wooden  clocks  commoidy  do,  that's  a  fact. 
But  I'll  show  you  presently  how  I  put  the  leake  into 
*em,  for  here's  a  feller  a  lit'le  bit  aiiead  on  us,  whose 
flint  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  fix  this  while  past," 
Here  we  were  nearly  thrown  out  of  the  wai^on  bv 
the  breaking  down  of  one  of  those  small  wooden 
bridges,  which  prove  so  annoviuLT  and  so  dangerous 
to  travellers.  '•  Did  you  hear  that  'ere  snap?"  said 
he  ;  "  well,  as  sure  as  fate,  I'll  break  my  clocks  over 
them  'ere  etarnal  log  bridges,  if  Old  ('lay  clips  over 
them  arterthat  fashion.  Them 'eie  poles  are  i)laguy 
Vreacherous  ;  thev  are  iist  like  old  Marm  Patience 
Doesixood's  teeth,  tliat  keeps  the  great  Uniu^d  Inde- 
pendent  Democratic  Hotel  at  Squaw  Neck  Creek, 
in  jMassachusetts,  —  one  half  gone,  and  t'other  half 
rotten  eends.'* 

"  I  thought  you  had  disposed  of  your  last  clock," 
said  I,  "  at  Colchester,  to  Deacon  Flint." 

"  So  I  did,"  he  replied,  "the  last  one  I  had  to  sell 
to  vm,  but  I've  got  u  few  left  for  other  folks  yet. 
Now  there  i*-^  i  man  on  this  road,  one  Zcb  Allen,  a 
rae',  genn/z/c  skinflint,  a  pioper  close-fisted  cnsiomer 


GUIJANG  A   BLL'EM)SE. 


•249 


as  you'll  a'inost  see  iinywlu»re,  and  one  llial's  not 
alt()<;etl)er  the  straip^lu  tiling  in  his  dealin'  lu'lthvir. 
lie  don't  want  no  one  to  live  hut  hiinsclt  •.  uid  he's 
niijihty  luindsiini  to  uie,  —  savin'  niv  clocks  are  all 
a  cheat,  and  that  we  ruinate  the  country,  a  drainin' 
ever}'  dro})  of  money  out  ol'it,  a  eallin'  me  a  Y.iid<(e 
broom,  and  what  not.  lint  it  ain't  all  jist  i^ospel 
that  he  says.  Now  I'll  put  a  cl<»cl<  on  him  aforr  lie 
knows  it ;  I'll  i:;o  ri^ht  into  him  as  sliik  as  a  whi^'le, 
and  play  him  to  the  eend  of  my  line  like  a  I  rout. 
I'll  have  a  hook  in  his  oilU.  while  he's  a  thinkiu'  he's 
only  smcllin'  at  the  bait.  There  he;  is  now.  Ill  lie 
darned  if  \a\  ain't,  stanc  'n'  afore  his  shop  door, 
lookin*  as  stron*;-  as  hi<;h  pi  M)f  damaikv  :  I  <4uess  I'll 
whip  out  of  the  hnnn  while  he's  a  lookin'  arter  the 
spicket,  and  p'r'aps  he'll  be  none  o'  the  wiser  till  he 
linds  it  out,  neither." 

"  Well.  'S^piire,  how  do  you  do,"  said  he  ;  "  how's 
all  at  home  ?  " 

"  Heasonahle  well,  I  give  you  thanks,  won't  you 

ali.^ht?" 

"  Can't  to-dav,"  said  Air.  Slick, "  I'm  in  a  consider- 
able  of  a  hurry  to  ketch  the  packet ;  have  you  an> 
conunands  for  Sou'west  ?  I'm  «j;oin' to  the  Islan<i. 
»n(l  across    the    Bay  to   Windsor.     Any   word    thai 


wav .'' 


^'No,"  says  iNIr.  Allen,  "none  that  I  can  think  on, 
unless  it  be  to  incpiire  how  butter's  uoin':  they  tell 
me  cheese  is  down,  and  \n-oduce  of  ail  kind  [)articular 
lull  this  fall." 


i 


"II 


% 

!• 


250 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


"  Well,  I'm  glad  I  can  tell  you  that  question,"  said 
Slick,  "  for  I  d^n't  calculate  to  return  to  these  parts  ; 
butter  is  risin'  a  cent  or  two;  1  put  mine  oft' mind  at 
ten-pence." 

"Don't    return!    possible?    why,    how   you    talk 
Have  you  done  with  the  clock  trade  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  have  ;   it  ain't  worth  lollerin'  no>v." 

"*Most  time,"  said  the  other,  laughing,  "for  by  all 
accounts  the  clocks  warn't  worth  havin',  and  most 
infarnal  dear  too ;  folks  begin  to  get  their  eyes 
open." 

"  It  wai  n't  needed  in  your  case,"  said  Mr.  Slick, 
with  that  peculiarly  composed  manner  that  indicates 
suppressed  feeling,  "  for  you  were  always  wide 
awake ;  if  all  the  folks  had  cut  tlieir  eyeteeth  as 
airly  as  you  did,  there'd  be  plaguy  few  clocks  sold  in 
these  parts,  I  reckon  ;  but  you  are  right,  'Squire, 
you  may  say  that,  they  actually  were  not  worth 
havin',  and  that's  the  truth.  The  fact  is,"  said  he, 
thiowing  dowLi  his  reins,  and  afft'Cting  a  most  con- 
fidential tone,  "  I  felt  almost  ashamed  of  them  my- 
self, I  tell  you.  The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is 
jist  this :  they  don't  make  no  good  ones  nowadays, 
no  more,  for  they  calculate  'em  for  shippin'  and  not 
for  home  use.  I  was  all  struck  up  of  a  heap,  when 
1  seed  the  last  lot  I  got  from  the  Slates  ;  I  was  prop- 
erly bit  by  them,  you  may  dv'pcnd  —  they  didn't  [fiy 
cost;  for  I  couldn't  recommend  tiiem  with  a  clear 
conscience,  and  I  must  say  1  do  like  a  fair  deal,  for 
Tm  straight  up  and  down,  and  love  to  go  right  ahead 


GULLING  A   BLUENOSE. 


251 


n,"  said 

parts  ; 

niiicl  at 

I    talk 


IOC." 

r  by  all 
d  most 
ir   eyes 


.  Slick, 
idicates 
s    wide 
3eth  as 
sold  in 
Squire, 
worth 
aid  he, 
>st  con- 
;m  niy- 
atter  is 
i^a(hivs, 
nd  not 
.  when 
s  prop- 
n't  [ffty 
I  clear 
3al,  for 
ahead 


that's  a  fact.     Did  yon  ever  see  them  I  fetched  when 
I  first  came,  them  I  sold  over  the  Bay  ?" 

"No,'  said  Mr.  Allen,  '•  1  can't  say  1  did." 

"Well,"  continued  he,  ''  thev  loere  a  prime  article, 
I  tell  you —  no  mistake  there  —  fit  for  any  market ; 
it's  generally  allowed  there  ain't  the  beat  of  them  to 
be  found  anywhere.  If  y*  u  want  a  clock,  and  can 
lay  your  hands  on  one  of  tliem,  1  advise  you  not  to 
let  ffo  the  chance  ;  you'll  know  'em  bv  the  •  Lowell ' 
mark,  for  thev  were  all  .iiade  at  Judj^e  Beler's  lac- 
tory.  'Squire  She()0(ly,  down  to  Five  Islands,  axed 
nie  to  get  liim  one,  and  a  special  job  I  had  of  it,  near 
about  more  sarch  arter  it  than  it  was  worth  ;  but  I 
did  get  him  one,  and  a  particular  handsum  one  it  is, 
copal'd  and  gilt  superior.  1  guess  it's  worth  ary 
half-dozen  in  these  parts,  let  t'others  be  whc;.  tley 
may.  If  I  could  a  got  supplied  with  the  like  o'  iliem, 
T  could  a  made  a  grand  spec  out  of  them,  for  they 
took  at  once,  and  went  oli' quick." 

"  Have  you  got  it  with  you?"  said  Mr.  Allen,  "  I 
should  like  to  see  it." 

"  Yes,  1  have  it  here,  all  done  up  in  tow,  as  snug 
as  a  bird's  egg,  to  keep  it  from  jarrin',  for  it  hurts 
'em  consumedly  to  jolt  'em  over  them  'ere  etariial 
wooden  bridges.  Uut  it's  no  use  to  take  it  out,  it 
ain't  for  sale  ;  it's  bespoke,  and  I  wouldn't  take  the 
same  trouble  to  get  anoliier  for  twenty  dollars.  The 
vnly  one  that  I  know  of  that  there's  any  chance  of 
gettin',  is  one  that  Increase  Orane  has  up  to  Wilmot 
;hey  say  he's  a  sellin'  off." 


252 


THE   CLOCKMAKEIi. 


After  11  good  deal  of  persuiisioii,  Mr.  Slick  uii" 
packed  the  clock,  but  protested  agiunst  iiis  askin;^ 
for  it,  for  it  was  not  lor  sale.  It  was  then  exhibiled, 
every  part  explained  and  praised,  as  new  in  inven- 
tion and  perfect  in  workmanship.  >«'ow  Mr.  Allen 
had  a  very  exalted  opinion  of 'Squire  Shepody's  taste, 
judgment,  and  saving  knowledge;  and,  as  it  was  the 
last  and  only  chance  of  getting  a  clock  of  such  supe 
rior  cpiality,  he  oilered  to  take  it  at  th^  price  the 
'Squire  was  to  have  it,  at  seven  pounds  ten  shillings. 
But  Mr.  Slick  vowed  he  couldn't  part  with  it  at  no 
rate,  he  didn't  know  where  he  could  get  the  like 
ngain  (for  he  warn't  quite  sure  about  increase 
Crane's),  and  the  'Stpiire  would  be  confounded  dis- 
appointed ;  he  couldn't  think  of  it.  In  proportion 
to  the  difficulties,  rose  the  ardor  of  Mr.  Allen  :  his 
offers  advanced  to  £8,  to  -£8  1U*\,  to  £9. 

"  I  vow,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  "  1  wish  I  hadn't  let  on 
..hat  I  had  it  i;  all.  I  don't  like  to  refuse  you,  but 
where  am  I  to  get  the  like?"  After  nuich  discus- 
sion of  a  similar  nature,  he  consented  to  part  with 
the  clock,  though  with  great  apparent  reluctance, 
and  pocketed  the  money  with  a  protest  that,  cost 
what  it  would,  he  should  have  to  procure  another, 
for  he  couldn't  think  of  putting  the  'Squire's  pipe  out 
arter  that  fashion,  for  he  was  a  very  clever  man,  and 
us  fair  as  a  bootjack. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Slick,  as  we  proceeded  on  our 
way,  '•  that  'ere  feller  is  properly  sarved  ;  he  got  the 
most  inferior  article  I  had,  and  I  jist  doubled  the 


GULLISG   A   lUAlENOSE. 


253 


ick  uii- 

askiiijr 
libiletl, 
i  II  veil - 
Alleu 
s  taste, 
rtas  tlie 
h  supe 
ice  the 
ullinijs. 
it  at  no 
le    liiie 
icrease 
ed  (lis- 
poition 
n  ;  his 

let  on 
DU,  but 
disciis- 
rt  with 
utance, 
t,  cost 
iiotlier, 
pe  out 
n,  and 

>n  our 
;()t  the 
;d  the 


price  on  him.  It's  a  pitv  he  should  be  a  tellin'  of 
lies  of  the  yanl<ets  ail  tlie  lime;  tills  will  lielp  liiiii 
now  to  u  little  i^raiii  of  truth."  Then  uiiuiii-lviuLi  his 
voice  and  manner,  he  re|»eale(I  Allen's  words  with  a 
stroll*;  nasal  twaiii;,  "'Most  time  tor  Mnx  to  <iive 
over  the  clock  trade,  I  muss,  for  l)y  all  accounts 
they  ain't  worth  bavin',  and  most  inlarnal  dear  loo; 
folks  begin  to  «^el  their  eyes  open.'  IWMter  for  you, 
if  you'd  a  had  your'n  open,  I  reckon  ;  a  joke  is  u 
jokt»,  but  I  coiisait  you  11  tiiid  thai  no  jok(\  The 
next  time  you  tell  stories  about  Yankee  jieddlets.  put 
the  wooden  clock  in  with  tlie  wooden  punkin  seeds, 
and  hickory  hams,  will  you?  I'he  IWuenoses, 
'Scpiire,  are  all  like  Zeb  Allen  ;  they  think  ihey 
know  evervlhin<j:,  but  tliev  --(^t  ''ulled  Ironi  vear's 
eend  to  year's  eend.  They  expect  too  much  from 
others,  and  do  too  little  lor  themselves.  They  at:lilly 
exj)ect  the  sun  to  shine,  and  the  rain  to  fall,  throuL;!! 
their  little  House  of  Assembly.  •  Whtit  have  you 
done  for  ns  i' '  they  keep  axin'  their  members. 
'  Who  did  you  spunk  up  to  last  session  ? '  jisl  as  if 
all  leiiislation  consisted  in  attackin'  some  hall-tlozen 
puss-proud  folks  at  Halifax,  who  are  jist  as  bii^ 
noodles  as  they  be  themselves.  Y(»u  hear  nothin'  » 
but  politics,  politics,  politics,  <tne  everlastin'  sound 
V)f  irive,  oive,  nive.  If  I  was  Onvernor  I'd  i^lve  'ein 
the  butt-eiul  of  my  mind  on  the  subject;  I'd  crack 
their  pates  till  I  let  some  li^ht  in  'em,  if  it  was  me,  I 
know.  I'd  say  to  the  mendu-rs.  Don't  come  down 
here  to  Halifax  with  your  lockrums  about  politicji 


254 


THE   CL  O  CK.UA  KKR. 


% 


inakinu;  a  <;roat  tonst*  about  nothin' ;  but  open  the 
country,  foster  ai»ricultur',  iMicoura^e  trade,  incorpo- 
rate coinj>anies,  make  l)riil«»;e.s,  facilitate  conveyance, 
and  above  all  thiniijs  make  a  railroad  from  WinJsoi 
to  Halifax;  and  nund  what  I  tell  you  now, —  write 
It  down  for  fear  you  should  forj^et  it,  for  it's  a  fact ; 
and  if  you  don't  believe  me,  I'll  lick  you  till  you  do, 
for  there  ain't  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it,  by  ^um,  —  Oiu 
such  work  as  the  Windsor  Jiridtje  is  worth  all  your 
laws,  voteSy  speeches,  and  resolutions,  for  the  last  ten 
years,  if  tied  up  and  put  into  a  meal-bag  together.  If 
it  ain't,  I  hope  1  may  be  shot !  ** 


»T» 


)(!n  the 

icorpo- 

cvance, 

-  write 
a  fact ; 

you  flo, 

—  Gnu 
all  your 
last  ten 

ler,     Jf 


CIIAITKR  XXXII. 

TOO    MANY    IRONS    IN    TIIK    FIUK. 

We  had  a  pleasant  sail  of  tlirco  hours  from  Parrs- 
boro'  to  Windsor.  The  arrivals  and  departures  by 
water  are  rcj^ailatcd  at  this  place  i)y  the  tide,  and 
it  was  sunset  before  we  reaciuMl  Mrs.  Wilcox's  com- 
fortable inn.  Here,  as  at  other  places,  Mr.  Slick 
seemed  to  l)e  perfectly  at  home  ;  and  he  pointrd  to 
a  wooden  clock,  as  a  proof  of  his  successful  and  ex- 
tended trade,  and  <)f  tin;  universal  influence  of  "soil 
sawder,"  and  a  knowledire  of"  human  nutur'."  Tak- 
in«^  out  a  penknife,  he  cut  of!' a  splinter  from  a  stick 
of  firewood,  and  balanciniiC  hin>self  on  one  leuj  of  his 
chair,  by  the  aid  of  his  ri^ht  foot,  commenced  his 
favorite  aumsement  of  whittling,  which  he  generally 
pursued  in  silence.  Indeed,  it  appeared  to  have  be- 
come with  him  an  indispensable  accompaniment  of 
reflection. 

He  sat  in  this  abstracted  manner  until  he  had 
rnanuHictured  into  delicate  shavin<j:s  the  whole  of  his 
raw  material,  when  he  ver\  deliberately  resumed  a 
))osition  of  more  ease  and  security,  by  nesting  his 
chair  on  two  legs  instead  of  one,  and  putting  both 


IMAGE  EVALUATrON 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^ 


A, 


1.0 


I.I 


■  4i 

|50 

us      Kb 


|2B     1 2.5 
^    ill 

1.8 


1.25      U    |i.6 

4 6" 

► 

.^. 


^. 


V] 


<? 


/J 


7: 


'/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


^ 


or; 


56 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


-n 


his  te«  t  on  the  inuntel-piece.    Then,  lightinc;  his  cigar 
he  said  in  his  nsiuil  quiet  manner,  — 

"  There's  a  phiguy  sight  of  truth  in  them  'ere  old 
proverbs.  They  are  distilled  facts  steamed  down  to 
an  essence.  They  are  like  portable  soup,  an  amazin' 
deal  of  matter  in  a  small  compass.  They  are  what 
I  vally  most,  —  experience.  Father  used  to  say,  I'd 
as  lieves  have  an  oid  homespun,  self-taught  doctor  as 
ary  a  professor  in  the  college  at  Piiihidelphia  or 
New  York  to  attend  me;  for  what  they  do  know, 
they  know  by  experience,  and  not  by  books ;  and 
experience  is  everything  ;  it's  hearin',  and  seein',  and 
tryin' ;  and  arter  that,  a  feller  must  be  a  born  fool 
if  he  don't  know.  That's  the  beauty  of  old  proverbs  ; 
they  are  as  true  as  a  plumb  line,  and  as  short  and 
sweet  as  sugar  candy.  Now  when  you  come  to  see 
all  about  this  country  you'll  find  the  truth  of  that 
ere  one  — '  A  man  that  has  too  many  irons  in  the  Jirc 
is  plagny  apt  to  get  some  on  ""em  burntJ 

"  Do  you  recollect  that  'ere  tree  1  showed  you  to 
Parrsboro'  ?  It  was  all  covered  v/ith  black  knobs, 
like  a  wart  rubbed  with  caustic.  Well,  the  pbun- 
trees  had  the  same  disease  a  few  years  ago,  and  they 
all  died,  and  the  cherry-trees  I  consait  will  go  for  it 
too.  The  faruis  lu^re  are  all  covered  with  the  same 
'black  knobs,'  and  they  do  look  like  Old  Scratch. 
If  you  see  a  place  all  gone  to  wrack  and  ruin, 
it's  mortgaged  you  may  depend.  The  '  black  knob 
is  on  it.  JNIy  plan,  you  know,  is  to  ax  leave  to  put 
a  clock  in  a  house,  and  let  it  be  till  I  return.     J 


hi 


IS 


cigar 


1  'ere  old 

down  to 

I  iimazin' 

are  wliat 

)  say,  I'd 

loctor  as 

Iphia  or 

0  know, 

ks ;  and 

ein',  and 

orn  fool 

'o verbs ; 

ort  and 

ie  to  see 

of  that 

the  Ji,c 

I  you  to 
knobs, 
J  plnm- 
nd  they 
•o  for  it 
le  same 
>cratch. 
d  ruin, 
:  knob 
J  to  pul 
Lirn.     J 


TOO   MANY  IRONS  IN  THE  FIRE.       257 

never  say  a  word  about  sellln'  it,  for  I  know  when  I 
come  back,  tliey  won't  hit  it  i^o  arler  they  are  once 
used  to  it.  Well,  when  I  first  came,  1  knowed  no 
one,  and  I  was  forced  to  inquire  whether  a  man  Wiis 
good  for  it,  afore  I  left  it  with  him  ;  so  I  liiade  a 
pint  of  axin'  all  al)out  every  man's  place  that  livi;d 
on  the  road.  '  Who  lives  uj)  there  in  the  bi<;- 
house?  '  says  I ;  '  it's  a  nice  location  that,  pretty  con- 
siderable improvements,  them.'  '  Why,  sir,  that's 
A.  Ij.'s  ;  he  was  well  to  do  in  the  world  once,  carried 
a  stiff  upj)er  lip.  and  keered  for  no  one  ;  he  was  oni; 
of  our  oraiid  aristocrats,  —  wore  a  lonjr-tailed  coat, 
and  a  ruffled  shirt ;  but  he  must  take  to  ship  buildin", 
and  has  gone  to  the  dogs.'  '  0,'  said  I,  '  too  many 
irons  in  tlie  fire.  Well,  the  next  farm,  where  the 
pigs  are  in  the  potato  field,  whose  is  that  ?  '  '  O,  sir, 
that's  C.  D/s ;  he  was  a  considerable  fore-handed 
farmer,  as  any  in  our  place,  but  he  sot  up  for  an 
Assembly-man,  and  opened  a  store,  and  things  went 
agin  him  somehow  ;  he  had  no  luck  arterwards.  I 
hear  his  place  is  mort<jaoed,  and  thev've  got  him 
cited  in  chancery.'  "'The  black  knob"  is  on  him,' 
said  I.  '  The  black  what,  sir  ? '  says  Bluenose. 
'  Nothin','  says  I.  '  Rut  the  next,  who  improves  that 
house  ?  '  '  Why,  that's  E.  F.'s. ;  he  was  the  greatest 
farmer  in  these  parts,  another  of  the  aristocracy  ; 
had  a  most  noble  stock  o'  cattle,  and  the  matter  of 
some  hundreds  out  in  j'int  notes.  Well,  he  took  the 
contract  for  beef  with  the  troops  ;  and  lie  fell  astarn, 
*o  I  guess  it's  a  gone  goose  with  him.      He's  heavj 

17 


258 


THE  CLOCKMAKER 


mortgaged.*  ' "  Too  many  irons "  ag'in/  said  L 
'  Who  lives  to  the  left  there  ?  that  man  has  a  most 
special  fine  interval,  and  a  grand  orchard  too ;  he 
must  be  a  good  mark,  that.'  '  Well  he  was  once,  sir, 
a  few  years  ago;  but  he  built  a  fullin'  mill,  and  a 
cardin'  mill,  and  put  up  a  lumber  establishment,  and 
speculated  in  the  West  Indy  line  ;  but  the  dam  was 
carried  away  by  the  freshets,  the  lumber  fell,  and 
faith  he  fell  too  ;  he's  shot  up,  he  hain't  been  seed 
these  two  years  ;  his  farm  is  a  common,  and  fairly  run 
out.'  '  0,'  said  I,  '  I  understand  now,  my  man ; 
these  folks  had  too  many  irons  in  the  fire,  you  see, 
and  some  on  'em  have  got  burnt.'  '  I  never  heerd 
tell  of  it,'  says  Bluenose  ;  '  they  might,  but  not  to  my 
knowledge  ; '  and  he  scratched  his  head,  and  looked 
as  if  he  would  ask  the  meanin'  of  it,  but  didn't  like 
to.  Arter  that  I  axed  no  more  questions ;  I  knew 
a  mort<2:a2:ed  farm  as  far  as  I  could  see  it.  There 
was  a  strong  family  likeness  in  'em  all  —  the  same 
ugly  features,  the  same  cast  o'  countenance.  The 
black  knob  was  discernible,  there  was  no  mistake : 
barn  doors  broken  off,  fences  burnt  up,  glass  out  of 
windows ;  more  white  crops  than  green,  and  both 
lookin'  weedy ;  no  wood  pile,  no  sarce  garden,  no 
compost,  no  stock  ;  moss  in  the  mowin'  lands,  thistles 
in  the  ploughed  lands,  and  neglect  everywhere ; 
skinnin'  had  commenced  —  takin'  all  out  and  puttin' 
nothin'  in  —  gittin'  ready  for  a  move,  so  as  to  leave 
nothin^  heliind.  Flittin'  time  had  come.  Fore* 
gatherin',  for  foreclosin'.     Preparin'    to    curse    and 


■MV-  i 


S 


said    L 
s  a  most 
too ;  he 
Diice,  sir, 
1,  and  a 
cut,  and 
lani  was 
ell,  and 
een  seed 
:iirly  run 
ly   man  ; 
you  see, 
er  heerd 
[)t  to  my 
1  looked 
:ln't  like 
I  knew 
There 
le  same 
?..     The 
[listake : 
J  out  of 
d   both 
:Ien,  no 
thistles 
where ; 
puttin' 
o  leave 
Fore* 
le    and 


TOO  MANY  IRONS  IN  THE  FIRE.      259 

quit.  That  beautiful  river  we  came  up  to-day  what 
superfine  farms  it  has  on  botli  sides  of  it,  hain't  it? 
it's  a  sight  to  ])ehold.  Our  folks  have  no  notion  of 
such  a  country  so  far  down  East,  beyond  creaf.iou 
most,  as  Nova  Scotia  is.  If  I  was  to  draw  up  an 
account  of  it  for  the  '  Slickville  Gazette,'  I  guess  few 
would  accept  it  as  a  bona  fide  draft,  without  some 
'sponsible  man  to  indorse  it,  that  warn't  given  to 
flammin'.  They'd  say  there  was  a  land  speculation 
to  the  bottom  of  it,  or  a  water  privilege  to  put  into 
the  market,  or  a  plaister  rock  to  get  off,  or  some 
such  scheme.  They  would,  I  snore.  But  1  hope  1 
may  never  see  daylight  ag'in,  if  there's  sich  a  coun- 
try in  all  our  great  nation,  as  the  ri-cinity  of 
"Windsor. 

"  Now  it's  jist  as  like  as  not,  some  goney  of  a  Blue- 
nose,  that  seed  us  from  his  fields,  sailin'up  full  split, 
with  a  fair  wind  on  the  packet,  went  right  off  home 
and  said  to  his  wife,  '  Now  do  for  gracious'  sake, 
mother,  jist  look  here,  and  see  how  slick  them  folks 
go  along  ;  and  that  captain  has  nothin  to  do  all  day, 
but  sit  straddle  Icijs  across  his  tiller,  and  order  about 
his  sailors,  or  talk  like  a  gentleman  to  his  passen- 
gers :  he's  got  'most  as  easy  a  time  of  it  as  Ami 
Cuttle  has,  since  he  took  up  the  fiu'  trade,  a  snarin' 
rabbits.  I  guess  I'll  buy  a  vessel,  and  leave  the  lads 
to  do  the  ploughin'  and  little  chores  ;  they've  growed 
up  now  to  be  considerable  lumps  of  boys.'  Well, 
away  he'll  go,  hot  foot  (for  T  know  the  critters  better 
Qor  they  know  themselves),  and    he'll  go  and  bjy 


2G0 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


lii  ;'i?l 


some  olJ  wrack  of  a  vessel,  to  carry  plaister,  and 
mortgage  his  farm  to  pay  for  her.  'J'lie  vessel  will 
jam  him  up  tight  for  repairs  and  new  riggin',  and  the 
sheriff  will  soon  pay  him  a  visit  (and  he's  a  most 
particular  troublesome  visitor  tiiat ;  if  he  onco'only 
gets  a  slight  how-d'ye-do  acquaintanre,  he  becomes 
so  amazin'  intimate  arterwards,  a  comin'  in  without 
knockin',  and  a  runnin'  in  and  out  at  all  hours,  and 
makin'  so  plaguy  free  and  easy,  it's  about  as  much 
as  a  barijain  if  vou  can  oet  clear  of  him  arterwards). 
Benipt  by  the  tide,  and  benipt  by  the  sheriff,  the 
vessel  makes  short  work  with  him.  Well,  the  up- 
shot is,  the  farm  gets  neglected  while  Captain  Cuddy 
is  to  sea  a  drogin'  of  plaister.  The  thistles  run  over 
his  grain  fields,  his  cattle  run  over  his  hay  land,  the 
interest  runs  over  its  time,  the  mortgage  runs  over 
all,  and  at  last  he  jist  runs  over  to  the  lines  to  East- 
port,  himself.  And  when  he  finds  himself  there,  a 
standin'  in  the  street,  near  JMajor  Pine's  tavern,  with 
his  hands  in  his  trouser  pockets,  a  chasin'  of  a  stray 
shillin'  from  one  eeiid  of  'em  to  another,  afore  he 
can  catch  it,  to  swap  for  a  dinner,  won't  he  look  like 
a  ravin'  distracted  fool,  that's  all  ?  He'll  feel  about 
as  streaked  as  I  did  once,  a  ridin'  down  the  St.  John 
River.  It  was  the  fore  part  of  March ;  I'd  been  up 
to  Frederickton  a  speculatin'  in  a  small  matter  of 
lumber,  and  was  returnin'  to  the  city,  a  gallopin' 
along  on  one  of  old  Runtin's  horses,  on  the  ice,  and 
all  at  once  I  missed  my  horse  :  he  went  right  slap  in 
and  slid  under  the  ice  out  of  sight  as  quick  as  wink. 


^,' 


ster,  and 
essel  will 
,  and  ihe 
s  a  most 
)nceonly 
becorne.s 
1  wiihout 
)urs.  and 
as  much 
irwards). 
griff,  the 
,  the  iip- 
n  Cuddy 
run  over 
and,  the 
iins  over 
to  East- 
there,  a 
irn,  with 
r  a  stray 
afore  he 
ook  like 
b1  about 
St.  John 
been  up 
atter  of 
^allopin' 
ice,  and 
t  slap  in 
as  wink. 


TOO  MANY  IRONS  L\   THE   Fllii:.       261 

and  there  I  was  a  standin'  all  alone.  Well,  says  I, 
what  the  do<rs  has  become  of  mv  horse  and  port- 
mantle  ?  they  have  given  me  a  proper  dodge,  that's 
a  fact.  That  is  a  narrer  scpieak,  it  fairly  bangs  all. 
Well,  I  guess  he'll  feel  near  about  as  ujiiv.  wlieti  he 
finds  himself  brought  up  all  stantlin'  that  way  ;  and 
it  will  come  so  sudden  on  him,  he'll  sav,  Whv,  it  ain't 
possible  I've  lost  farm  and  vessel  both,  in  t"  tu's, 
that  way,  but  I  don't  see  neither  on  'em.  E  .ti)ort 
is  near  about  all  made  up  of  folks  wlio  have  ii  d  to 
cut  and  run  for  it. 

"  I  was  down  there  last  fall,  and  who  should  I  see 
but  Thomas  Rigby,  ot  Windsor.  He  knew  me  the 
minit  he  laid  eyes  upon  me,  for  I  had  sold  him  a 
clock  the  sunnner  afore.  (I  got  paid  for  it  though, 
for  I  seed  he  had  too  many  irons  in  the  fire  not  to 
get  some  on  'em  burnt ;  and  besides,  I  knew  every 
fall  and  spring  the  wind  set  in  for  the  lines  from 
Windsor  very  strong  —  a  regular  trade-wind  —  a 
sort  of  monshune,  that  blows  all  one  way  for  a  long 
time  without  shiftin'.)  Well,  I  felt  })roper  sorry  for 
him,  for  he  was  a  v<'ry  clever  man,  and  looked  cut 
up  dreadfully,  and  aniazin'  down  in  the  mouth. 
*  Why,'  says  I,  '  possible  ?  is  that  you,  Mr.  Rigby  ? 
why,  as  I  am  alive!  if  that  ain't  my  old  friend  — 
why  how  do  you  ?  '     *  Hearty,  I  thank  you,'  said  he, 

how  be  you  ? '    *  Reasonable  well,  I  give  you  thanks,' 
says    I;  'but  what   on    airth    brought   you    here?' 

Why/  says  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  I  couldn't  well  avoid  it ; 
♦^imes  are    uncommon    dull    ovt'r    the    Bay;  there's 


2(52 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


1,.  I 

1 

nothin'  stirrin'  there  this  year,  and  never  will,  I'm 
thinkin'.  No  mortal  soul  can  live  in  Nova  Scotia. 
I  do  believe  that  our  country  was  made  of  a  Satur- 
day nioht,  arter  all  the  rest  of  the  univarse  was 
finished.  One  half  of  it  has  got  ..11  the  ballast  of 
Noah's  ark  thrown  out  there  ;  and  the  other  \  f  is 
eat  up  by  bankers,  lawyers,  and  other  great  folks. 
All  our  money  goes  to  pay  salaries,  and  a  poor  man 
has  no  chance  at  idl.*  *  Well,'  says  I,  '  are  you  done 
up  stock  and  fluke  —  a  total  wrack?'  'No/  says 
he, '  I  have  two  hundred  pounds  left  yet  to  the  good, 
but  my  farm,  stock,  and  utensils,  them  young  blood 
horses,  and  the  bran  new  vessel  I  was  a  buildin,'  are 
all  gone  to  pot,  —  swept  as  clean  as  a  thrashin'  floor, 
that's  a  fact ;  Shark  and  Co.  took  all.'  '  Well,'  says 
I,  '  do  you  know  the  reason  of  all  that  misfortin'  ?  ' 
'0/  says  he,  '  any  fool  can  tell  that  —  bad  times  to 
be  sure  ;  everything  has  turned  agin  the  country ; 
the  banks  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and  much  good 
may  it  do  'em.'  '  Well,'  says  I,  '  what's  the  reason 
the  banks  don't  eat  us  up  too,  for  I  guess  they  are 
as  hungry  as  your'n  be,  and  no  way  particular  about 
their  food  neither;  considerable  sharp  set  —  cut  like 
razors,  you  may  depend.  I'll  tell  you,'  says  I,  'how 
you  got  that  'ere  slide,  that  sent  you  heels  over 
head  —  You  had  too  many  irons  in  the  fire.  You 
hadn't  ought  to  have  taken  hold  of  ship  buildin'  at 
all ;  you  knowed  nothin'  about  it.  You  should  have 
stuck  to  your  farm,  and  your  farm  would  have  stuck 
♦^o  you.     Now  go  back,  afore  you  spend  your  money 


TOO  MANY  IRONS  fN  Till':  FIlli:.       263 


ivill,  I'm 
,  Scotia. 
a  Siitur- 
irse  was 
lUast  of 
rl-  f  is 
It  folks, 
oor  man 
()u  done 
so'  savs 
be  good, 
liT  blood 
din,'  are 
lin'  floor, 
ell,'  says 
fortin'  ? ' 
times  to 
country ; 
ich  good 
3  reason 
they  are 
ar  about 
-  cut  like 
J  I,  '  how 
iels  over 
"e.  You 
Liildin'  at 
uld  have 
Lve  stuck 
"  money 


go  up  to  Douglas,  and  you'll  buy  as  good  a  farm  fur 
two  hundred  pounds  as  what  you  lost,  and  see  to 
that,  and  to  that  only,  and  vou'li  --lovv  rieli.  As  for 
banks,  they  can't  hurt  a  country  no  ^reat,  I  guess, 
except  by  breakin,'  and  I  consait  there's  no  foar  of 
your'n  breakin';  and  as  for  lawyers,  and  tliem  kind 
o'  heavy  coaches,  give  'em  half  the  road,  and  if  lliev 
run  agin  you,  take  the  law  of  'em.  Undivided  un-  • 
remitting  (tUcnfion  paid  to  one.  tliinif^  in  ninefi/  nine 
causes  out  of  a  hundred,  will  insure  success  ;lbul  you 
hnoiv  the  old  soyin'  ohont  "■  too  nuonj  irons." 

"'Now,'  says  J, 'Mr.  Rigby,  ,vhat  o'clock  is  it?' 

*  Why,'  says  he,  'the  moon  is  up  a  piece,  I  guess  it's 
seven  o'clock  or  thereabouts.  I  suppose  ii's  time  to 
be  a  movin'.'  'Stop,'  says  I,  'jist  eome  witli  me  :  T 
goi  a  rael  nateral  cmiosity  to  sliow  you  —  such,  a 
thing  as  you  never  laid  vour  eves  on  in  Nova  Scotia, 
I  know.'     So  we  walked  alonir  towards  the  beajclu 

*  Now,'  says  I,  '  look  at  that  'ere  man,  old  Lunar,  and 
his  son,  a  sawin'  plank  by  moonlight,  for  tliat  'ere 
vessel  on  the  stocks  there  ;  come  ag'in  to-morrow 
morniu'  afore  you  can  cleverly  discarn  objects  the 
matter  of  a  yard  or  so  afore  you,  and  you'll  find  'eu) 
at  it  afif'in.  I  cfuess  that  vessel  won't  ruinate  those 
folks.  7V(ev  know  their  business  and  stick  to  itJ 
Well,  away  went  Rigby,  considerable  sulky  (for  he 
had  no  notion  that  it  was  his  own  fault,  he  laid  all 
the  blame  on  the  folks  to  Halifax)  ;  but  1  guess  he 
Was  a  little  grain  posed,  for  back  he  went,  and  bought 
iO  Sowack,  \vhere  I  hear  he  has  a  better  farm  than 
(le  had  afore. 


264 


THE   CLOCKMAKICR. 


\^\ 


'■m 


"  I  mind  once  we  had  an  Irish  gal  as  a  dairy  help  ^ 
well,  we  iiad  a  wicked  devil  of  a  cow,  and  she  kicked 
over  the  milk  pall,  and  in  ran  Dora,  and  swore  the 
Bo«;Ie  did  it.  Jist  so  poor  Uij^by.  he  wouldn't  allow 
it  was  nateral  causes,  but  laid  it  all  tc  politics. 
TalUin'  of  Dora,  puts  iiie  in  mind  of  the  jj^als,  for  she 
warn't  a  bad-Iookin'  heifer,  that.  My  !  what  an  eve 
she  had,  and  I  consaited  she  had  a  particular  small 
foot  and  ankle  too,  when  I  helped  her  up  once  into 
the  haymow,  to  sarch  for  ej;gs ;  but  I  can't  exactly 
say,  for  when  she  brought  'em  in,  mother  shook  her 
head  and  said  it  was  dangerous ;  she  said  she  might 
fall  through  and  hurt  herself,  and  always  sent  old 
Snow  arterwards.  She  was  a  considerable  of  a  Ions- 
headed  womi'n,  was  mother  ;  she  could  see  as  far 
ahead  as  most  folks.  She  warn't  born  yesterday,  I 
guess.  Hut  that  'ere  proverb  is  true  as  respects  the 
gals  too.  Whenever  yoi.  see  one  on  'cm  with  a 
whole  lot  of  sweethearts,  it's  an  even  chance  if  she 
gets  married  to  any  on  'em.  One  cools  off,  and 
another  cools  off,  and  before  she  brings  any  one  on 
'em  to  the  right  weldin'  heat,  the  coal  is  gone,  and 
the  fire  is  out.  Then  she  may  blow  and  blow  till 
she's  tired ;  she  may  blow  up  a  dust,  but  the  deuce 
of  a  flame  can  she  blow  up  ag'in  to  save  her  soul 
alive.  I  never  see  a  clever  lookin'  S'd  in  dan^jer  of 
that,  I  don't  long  to  whisper  in  her  ear,  You  dear 
little  critter,  you,  take  care !  you  have  too  mam/  irons 
in  the  Jire  ;  some  on  'em  iv ill  get  stone  cold,  and  t'other 

nes  will  get  burnt  so^  they'll  never  be  no  good  in 
vatur'.'' 


■■I 


I 


ry  holp  ,• 
'  kicked 
^vore  the 
I't  allow 
I)oHtics. 
,  for  she 
an  eve 
ir  small 
nee  into 
exactly 
look  her 
le  nn'oht 
sent  old 
fa  lonir- 
e  as  far 
erday,  I 
>ects  the 
with  a 
e  if  she 
off,  and 
one  on 
►ne,  and 
>low  till 
3  deuce 
er  soul 
nger  of 
)u  dear 
If/  irons 
1 1"  of  her 
food  in 


n 


i-v^ 


^.« 


m 

T:^!!. 


CIIAPTKU  XXXITI. 

WINDSOK    AND    THIO    FAR    WEST. 

The  next  niorning  the  Clockniakcr  proposed  to 
take  a  drive  round  tiie  noij^hborhood.  "  You  hadn't 
ought,"  says  he,  "  to  be  in  a  hurry;  you  should  see 
the  Vicinity  of  this  location ;  there  ain't  the  beat  of 
it  to  be  found  anywhere." 

While  the  servants  were  harnessing  Old  Clay,  we 
went  to  see  a  new  bridg(j  which  bad  recently  been 
erected  ovf  '  the  Avon  Kiver.  '' That,"  said  he,  "is 
a  splendid  thing.  A  New  Yorker  built  it,  and  the 
folks  in  St.  John  paid  for  it." 

"  Y'ou  mean  of  Halifax,"  said  I ;  "  St.  John  is  in 
tlie  other  Province." 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  replied,  "  and  it  is  a 
credit  to  New  Brunswick.  No,  sir,  the  Halifax  folks 
neither  know  nor  keer  much  about  the  country ;  they 
wouldn't  take  hold  on  it,  and  if  thev  had  a  waited 
for  them,  it  would  have  been  one  while  afore  they 
got  a  bridge,  I  tell  you.  They've  no  spirit,  and 
plaguy  little  sympathy  with  the  country,  and  I'll  tell 
you  the  reason  on  it.  There  are  a  good  many  people 
there  from  other  parts,  and  always  have  been,  who 


266 


THE   CLOLXMAKER. 


tl 


'1 


!'■ 

lii 

•>  i 

" ' 

);tr: 


come  to  make  money  and  notliln'else,  wIjo  don't  caK 
it  lionie,  and  don't  fV't'l  to  lionKr,  and  wlio  intend  to 
np  killocli  and  ofV,  as  soon  as  ihey  liave  inaile  their 
ned  out  of  the  Hhienoses.  Tliey  have  i^ot  abont  as 
mueh  rej^ard  lor  tlie  country  as  ii  peddliT  has,  wlw) 
trudj^es  alonj^  with  a  puck  on  his  hack.  He  ivalLs^ 
'cause  he  intends  to  ride  at  last;  trusts,  'cause  lie 
intends  to  stie  at  last ;  smiles,  'cause  he  intends  to 
c/teat  at  hist;  S(U'es  all,  'cause  he  intends  to  move  all 
at  last.  It's  actilly  overrun  with  transient  paupers, 
and  transient  sj)ecuhitors  ;  and  tiiese  hist  grumble 
and  growl  like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head,  the  whole 
blessed  time,  at  everything  ;  and  can  hardly  keep  a 
civil  tongue  in  their  head,  while  they're  fobbin'  your 
money  hand  over  hand.  These  critters  feel  no 
interest  in  anything  but  cent.  i)er  cent. ;  they  deaden 
public  spirit ;  they  hain't  got  none  themselves,  and 
they  larf  at  it  in  others  ;  and  when  you  add  their 
numbers  to  the  timid  ones,  the  stingy  ones,  the 
ignorant  ones,  and  the  poor  ones,  that  are  to  be 
found  in  every  place,  why,  the  few  smart-spirited 
ones  that's  left  are  too  few  to  do  anything,  and  so 
nothin'  is  done.  It  appears  to  me  if  I  was  a  Blue- 
nose  I'd  —  but  thank  fortin'  I  ain't,  so  I  says  noth- 
in';  but  there  is  somethin'  that  ain't  altogether  jist 
right  in  this  country,  that's  a  fact. 

"  But  what  a  country  this  Bay  country  is,  isn*t  it  ? 
Look  at  that  medder  ;  bean't  it  lovely  ?     The  prayer 
eyes  of  Illanoy  are  the  top  of  the  ladder  with  us,  but 
these  dykes  take  the  shine  o/T  them  by  a  long  chalk 


f  J 


% 


)n't  call 
lend  to 
('   tlujir 
)()ul  as 
us,  wlio 
iralks, 
nsii    he 
luls  to 
HOCC  nil 
juipers, 
rumble 
whole 
keep  u 
ii'  your 
uel    no 
(leaden 
es,  and 
d  their 
les,  the 
J  to  be 
spirited 
and  so 
I  Blue- 
>  noth- 
lier  jist 

;n*t  it? 
prayer 
us,  but 
chalk 


) 


WlNDSOli  AM)   IHE  FAli   WEST.        207 

that's  sartin.  The  land  in  our  Far  West,  it  is 
geucrailv  allowed,  can't  be  no  lu'ttcr:  what  you  plant 
is  sure  to  j^row  aiul  yield  \v(;ll,  and  Inixl  is  so  cheap, 
you  can  live  there  lor  h:dl'  nothin'.  lint  it  ddu't 
agree  with  us  New  Ku^laiul  IoIIns  ;  nc  don't  t'njoy 
good  health  there;  and  what  in  the  woihl  is  lh<*  u^e 
of  food,  if  you  have  such  an  etanial  dvspepsy  you 
can't  digest  it?  A  man  can  hardiv  live  there  till 
next  grass,  afore  he  is  in  the  yaller  leaf.  Jiisl  like 
one  of  our  bran  new  vessels  ])nilt  d(»\vn  in  Maine,  of 
best  liackinatack,  or  what's  better  still,  of  our  rael 
American  live  oak  (and  that's  allowcnl  to  he  about 
the  best  in  the  world)  ;  send  her  olf  to  the  West 
Indies,  ami  let  her  lie  theie  awhile,  and  the  worms 
will  riddle  her  bottom  all  full  of  holes  lik(?  a  tin 
cidlender,  or  a  board  with  a  grist  of  duck-shot  ihroiigh 
it;  you  wouldn't  believe  what  a  httrc,  \\u\\  be.  Well, 
that's  jist  the  case  with  the  Western  climate.  The 
heat  takes  the  solder  otit  of  the  knees  and  elbows, 
weakens  the  joints,  and  makes  the  frame  ricketty. 

"  Besides,  we  like  the  smell  of  the  salt  water;  it 
seems  kinder  nateral  to  us  New  Knglandiirs.  We 
can  make  more  a  ploughin'  of  the  seas,  than  ploni;h- 
in'  of  a  prayer-eye.  It  would  take  a  bottom  near 
about  as  long  as  Connecticut  River,  to  raise  wheat 
enough  to  buy  the  cargo  of  a  Nantucket  whaler,  or 
a  Salem  tea  shij).  And  then  to  leave  one's  folks, 
and  wvitive  place,  where  one  was  raised,  halter  broke, 
and  trained  to  go  in  gei'r,  and  exchange  all  the  com- 
forts of  the  Old  States  for  them  'ere  new  (>nes,  don't 


i.j  t 


268 


THE  CLOCKMAKER. 


H 


H  ■  S^i 


14 


■■'4-i 


seem  to  go  down  well  at  all.  Why,  the  verj  sight 
of  the  Yankee  gals  is  good  for  sore  eyes,  the  dear 
little  critters  !  they  do  look  so  scrumptious,  I  tell 
you,  with  their  cheeks  bloomin'  like  a  red  rose 
budded  on  a  white  one,  and  their  eyes  like  Mrs. 
Adams's  diamonds  (that  folks  say  shine  as  well  in 
the  dark  as  in  the  light),  neck  like  a  swan,  lips 
chock  full  of  kisses  —  lick !  it  fairly  makes  one's 
mouth  water  to  think  on  'em.  But  it's  no  use  talkin', 
they  are  just  made  critters,  that's  a  fact,  full  of  health 
and  life,  and  beauty.  Now,  to  change  them  'ere 
splendid  whiie  water-lilies  of  Connecticut  and  Rhode 
Island  for  the  yaller  crocusses  of  Illanoy,  is  what  we 
don't  like.  It  goes  most  confoundedly  agin  the 
grain,  I  tell  you.  Poor  critters,  when  they  get  away 
back  there,  they  grow  as  thin  as  a  sawed  lath ;  their 
little  peepers  are  as  dull  as  a  boiled  cod-fish ;  their 
skin  looks  like  yaller  fever,  and  they  seem  all  mouth 
like  a  crocodile.  And  that's  not  the  worst  of  it, 
neither ;  for  when  a  woman  begins  to  grow  sailer 
it's  all  over  with  her ;  she's  up  a  tree  then,  you  may 
depend,  there's  no  mistake.  You  can  no  more  bring 
back  her  bloom,  than  vou  can  the  color  to  a  leaf  the 
frost  has  touched  in  the  fall.  It's  a  gone  goose  with 
her,  that's  a  fact.  And  that's  not  all,  for  the  temper 
is  plaguy  apt  to  change  with  the  cheek  too.  When 
the  freshness  of  youth  is  on  the  move,  the  sweetness 
of  temper  is  amazin'  apt  to  start  along  with  it.  A 
bilious  cheek  and  a  sour  temper  are  like  the  Siamese 
twins,  there's  a  nateral  cord  of  union  atween  them 


t:J 


'- 


rev}  sight 
the  dear 
IS,  I   tell 
red    rose 
ike   Mrs. 
3  well  in 
wan,  lips 
tes   one's 
e  talkin', 
of  health 
hem  'ere 
k1  Rhode 
what  we 
agin   the 
get  away 
th ;  their 
sh ;  their 
ill  mouth 
rst  of  it, 
)w  sailer 
you  may 
)re  bring 
L  leaf  the 
>ose  with 
i  temper 
When 
weetness 
h  it.     A 
Siamese 
!n  them 


WINDSOR  AND   THE  FAR  WEST.        269 

The  one  is  a  signboard,  with  the  name  of  the  firm 
written  on  it  in  big  letters.  He  that  don't  know  this, 
can't  read,  I  guess.  It's  no  use  to  cry  over  sj)ilt 
milk,  we  all  know,  l)ut  it's  easier  said  than  done, 
that.  Womenkind,  and  especially  single  folks,  will 
take  on  dreadful  at  the  fadin'  of  their  roses,  and  their 
frettin'  only  seems  to  niidse  the  thorns  look  sharper. 
Our  minister  used  to  say  to  sister  Sail  (and  when 
she  was  voun<j  she  was  a  rael  witch,  a  most  an  ever- 
lastin'  sweet  girl),  '  Sally,'  he  used  to  say,  '  now's  the 
time  to  larn,  when  you  are  young;  store  your  mind 
well,  dear,  and  the  fragrance  will  remain  lon^  arter 
the  rose  has  shed  its  leaves.  T/ie  after  of  roses  is 
stronger  than  the  rose,  and  a  plagvy  sight  more  vcdna- 
ble.^  Sail  wrote  it  down  ;  she  said  it  warn't  a  bad 
idee,  that:  but  father  laifed  ;  he  said  he  guessed 
minister's  courtin'  days  wain't  over,  when  he  nuule 
such  pretty  speeches  as  that  'ere  to  the  gals.  Now, 
who  would  go  to  expose  his  wife,  or  his  darters,  or 
himself,  to  the  dangers  of  such  a  climate,  for  the 
sake  of  thirty  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre  instead 
of  fifteen?  There  seems  a  kinder  soniethin'  in  us 
that  rises  in  our  throat  when  we  think  on  it,  and 
won'r  let  us.  AVe  don't  like  it.  Give  me  the  shore, 
and  let  them  that  like  the  Far  West  go  there,  I  say. 
"  This  place  is  as  fertile  as  lilaiioy  or  Ohio,  as 
healthy  as  any  part  of  the  globe,  and  riglu  alongside 
of  the  salt  water  ;  but  the  folks  want  three  things  — 
Industry,  Enterprise,  Kcononnj.  These  Bluenoses 
don't  know  how  tr    vallv  this  location  ;  only  look  at 


270 


THE   CLOCKMAKER. 


M 


I      P       ( 


It,  and  see  what  a  place  for  bisness  it  is :  the  centre 
of  the  Province ;  the  nateral  capital  of  the  Basin  of 
Minas,  and  part  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy  ;  the  great 
thoroughfare  to  St.  John,  Canada,  and  the  Uiiited 
States  ;  the  exports  of  lime,  gypsum,  freestone,  and 
grindstone  ;  the  dykes  —  but  it's  no  use  talkin' ;  I 
wish  we  had  it,  that's  all.  Our  folks  are  like  a  rock- 
maple  tree  :  stick  'em  in  anywhere  but  eend  up  and 
lop  down,  and  they  will  take  root  and  grow  ;  but  put 
'eui  in  a  rael  good  soil  like  this,  and  give  'em  a  fair 
chance,  and  they  will  go  ahead  and  thrive  right  off, 
most  amazin'  fast,  that's  a  fact.  Yes,  if  we  had  it, 
we  would  make  another  guess  place  of  it  from  what 
it  is.  In  one  year  we  would  have  a  railroad  to  Hali- 
fax, which,  unlike  the  stone  that  killed  two  birds,  loould 
be  the  makiiC  of  both  places.  I  often  tell  the  folks 
this,  but  all  they  can  say  is,  '  O  we  are  too  poor  and 
too  young.'  Says  I, '  You  put  me  in  mind  of  a  great 
lonor  leooed,  Ions;  tail  colt  father  had.  He  never 
chano-ed  his  name  of  colt  as  lono-  as  he  lived,  and  he 
was  as  old  as  the  hills  ;  and  though  he  had  the  best 
of  feed,  was  as  thin  as  a  whippin'  post.  He  was  colt 
all  his  days  —  always  young  —  always  poor ;  and 
young  and  poor  you'll  be  I  guess  to  the  eend  of  the 
chapter.' " 

On  our  return  to  the  inn,  the  weather,  which  had 
been  threatening  for  some  time  past,  became  very 
tempestuous.  It  rained  for  three  successive  days, 
and  the  roads  were  almost  impassable.  To  continue 
my  journey  was  wholly  out  of  the  question.     I  deter- 


J  centre 
asin  of 
e  great 
United 
ne,  and 
kin';  I 
a  rock- 
up  and 
but  put 
11  a  fair 
ght  off, 
had  it, 
n  what 

0  Hall- 
,  would 
e  folks 
or  and 

1  great 
never 

and  he 
le  best 
as  colt 
';  and 
of  the 

ih  had 
i  very 
davs, 
ntinue 
deter- 


WINDSOR  AND   THE  FAR  WEST.        271 

mined,  therefore,  to  take  a  seat  in  the  coach  for 
Halifax,  and  defer  until  next  vear  the  reniaining 
part  of  my  tour.  i\Ir.  Slick  agreed  to  meet  me  here 
in  June,  and  to  provide  for  me  the  same  conveyance 
I  had  used  from  Amherst.  I  look  forward  with 
much  pleasure  to  our  meeting  again.  I  lis  manner 
and  idiom  were  to  me  perfectly  new,  and  very  amus- 
ing;  while  his  good  sound  sense,  searching  observa- 
tion, and  queer  humor,  rendered  his  conversation  at 
once  valuable  and  interesting.  There  are  many 
subjects  on  which  I  should  like  to  draw  him  out; 
and  I  promised  myself  a  fund  of  anuisement  in  his 
remarks  on  the  state  of  society  and  manners  at  Hali- 
fax, and  the  machinery  of  the  local  government,  on 
both  of  which  he  appears  to  entertain  many  original 
and  some  very  just  opinions. 

As  he  took  leave  of  me  in  the  coach  he  whispered, 
"  Inside  of  your  great  big  cloak  you  will  find  wrapped 
up  a  box,  containin'  a  thousand  rael  genuine  first 
chop  Havanas  —  no  mistake  —  the  clear  thing. 
When  you  smoke  'em,  think  sometimes  of  your  old 
sonipanion,  Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker." 


THE   END. 


